Storm of Sand, Rage of Fire
by VJ Riddle
Summary: Makiguchi Katashi, personal guard to the Godaime Kazekage, woke up five years before the failed invasion of Konoha. Unsure if he was trapped in a genjutsu (as they had been fighting Uchihas), he played along until he realized one thing. His best friend was killed by his then-yet-now-crazy Kage today. So he had to try. He failed, but that was okay. Because it wasn't a genjutsu.
1. Chapter 1

He smelled food.

And not half-burned rabbit or squirrel or… or whatever the hell they could get their hands on. He smelled real, honest to kami food.

Plain brown rice with a dash of soy, a drop or two of wasabi if he wasn't mistaken, and eggplant. _Eggplant_. He hadn't had eggplant in _months_, and he'd had to fight Sharingan no Kakashi for it! In the end, they had agreed to split the eggplant, but it had taken a long and bitter struggle to get that concession.

Between that and the futon he was lying on, it was clear he was hallucinating or under a genjutsu. Or both – the combination resulted in some particularly strange ones.

Smoothly rising to his feet, Katashi glanced out the window and froze. Definitely a genjutsu. Moonlight was falling down on Sunagakure, months after it had been wiped off the map by Akatsuki's efforts, sending the entirety of the population to Konoha to join the Fourth War for good. But the moon was bright, clear and soft in its light, so gentle compared to the burning sun of his desert.

Not the dark, twisted thing it was supposed to become in Madara's victory, triumphantly glaring down on them all as they went about their lives unaware.

What was going on?

"Running late again taich-oh shit!" before he could process just _who_ he was hearing, Katashi had thrown a shuriken from the holster he kept strapped to his leg at all times, the individual in his doorway twisting aside to avoid the whirling edges and the tool embedded itself in the far wall.

He lunged forward with a kunai in hand, the no longer shocked target grabbing his extended arm and slamming him against the hall's wall, the adobe quivering with the impact. He shook off the bruising and wrenched the shuriken out to throw it again, following up with chakra-string deflection so the first dodge wasn't enough.

"The hell is going on here?! Taicho! Kohai! Enough!"

He froze, a tremor he was unable to suppress running through him at that voice. _The_ voice, so far as he was concerned. The kunoichi he had been manhandling jerked at the tone too, the surprised quarter-flinch a move so familiar it made him doubt.

"Taicho?" his second, his _partner_, walked closer and he couldn't bear to look at him directly, couldn't bear to take more than the corner-of-his-eye glimpses but something in him breaking and wailing at not being able to blankly stare and drink in every detail of those living features.

"Kaoru, get going, you'll be late for assignments," the kunoichi nodded shortly and darted away, Katashi not letting his eyes stray from the place where she'd been tensed, ready to defend herself from him again.

"You died," Katashi finally rasped, frozen in his half-crouch, still ready to lunge at a no-longer-there opponent.

"Ah hell, taicho," Takeshi sighed, his fellow ANBU pulling him upright and into a half-hug, Katashi hooking his fingers on the man's jounin vest and shuddering. "Just a dream this time, taicho. Just a dream. What did it this time?"

"That kid," Katashi shuddered again, convulsively. There was no doubt who he was referring too, and even after becoming his Kazekage's personal guard-medic-advisor-friend rolled into one, references to the man's earlier state sent a chill down his spine and a tremor into his hands. Suna before the invasion lived with a time-bomb in its walls, the ANBU lived with a crushing KI and doom _every damned day_. There was a reason that their elite forces had the shortest lifespan of any in the Elemental nations, and that reason was named Gaara.

Takeshi knew it too, everyone knew it, and he didn't bother with platitudes and instead let Katashi finish reassuring himself that today, at least, it wasn't true.

"Taicho, we do have assignments being handed out in twenty minutes, and I actually managed to make food successfully this time, which you know is rare on my rotation. So we should get moving."

Katashi nodded, straightening and heading back to his room, getting ready with practiced speed and forcibly shoving aside questions as to what was going on, where he was, and if _this was seriously happening_ because if he wasn't completely insane, if this _wasn't _a genjutsu then – then this was unbelievable. Incredible. And stupid.

Securing his jounin vest over the standard issue dark tan shirt, he pulled on his knuckle-covering gloves and checked the buckles on his holsters while he bitterly mused on the uselessness of his position. What exactly could he do, now? Gaara psychotic and murderous, at least five years out from the failed invasion, with him not obtaining his highest rank until after that.

He had no influence outside the ANBU, he wasn't political, he was just another ANBU captain. There was _nothing_ he could do right now.

_Not true,_ he forced himself to think, walking out of the room after securing his head-cloth and hita-ate. _Not true at all. I can train. I can be ready. And when Gaara comes back _Gaara_, I can be here._

_You can be here, and hate. And hate and hate and hate because of what he did and what you couldn't – _he forced himself to stop thinking. To focus instead on the box of rice and eggplant with a touch of soy and wasabi, just like he'd smelled earlier, that Takeshi had handed him with chopsticks as they stepped out the door. The pair of them had lived together since their genin days, two orphaned veterans from the Third War banding their limited resources together, and even though now they could more than afford their own apartments, the brief experiment when Takeshi had advanced to jounin before him had ended rather quickly. They were just too used to living in one another's pockets.

So when a kunoichi, rejected by her civilian family in the capital, had joined their team and they had spotted her utter rat's nest of an apartment, they'd kicked down the door and dragged their little kohai kicking and screaming to the spare bedroom-then-office of their apartment and refused to let her leave until she found a place of her own that _wasn't_ a hazard to any living thing within a block's distance.

_Alive alive they're alive alive all alive so alive so happy so alive alive_, he could sense the mantra repeating, barely sensible, barely coherent in his mind, just looping back and forth back and forth as he took in the scent of his village the taste of his eggplant the warmth of Takeshi's presence beside him.

Running over the roofs while eating fresh food from an old take-out box was nothing new, so by the time they reached headquarters for their assignments he had finished and deposited the box in a waste-basket, the chopsticks licked clean and tucked into his vest for later, much to Takeshi's long-standing disgust.

Expertly ignoring the sanitation rant of his friend, he paced the familiar route to their lockers, opening his with a flash of handsigns and flicks of fingers to unseal the personal security he'd added to the thing, pulling his sand-shaded burnoose and draping it over his daily uniform, hooking his mask to his belt and securing the ninjato over his left shoulder per usual. Depending on assignment, he'd come back and ditch his vest entirely to don the battle-armor lurking in his locker.

The old uniform, a second skin after all these years, felt a comfort, a homecoming. The special extra-long turtleneck standard for Suna-nin to keep sand out of their noses was secured up to cover half his face (how he had _laughed_ to find out that Hatake half-funded the black-market for Suna shinobi gear) and he glanced over at the similarly garbed Takeshi, who squinted a smile at him before leading the way to the central room for their assignments.

As was usual, the date and time were read out at the beginning of the assembly, and they all stiffened to attention as the shift-commander took his place in front of them. Katashi could feel the date twitch in his mind, shivering its way through his memories as he tried to recall the reason it sent a tremor through his heart. Being a shinobi, days and deaths had a way of blurring, only the most memorable, the most _fantastical_ truly embedded in the mind with deaths taking far greater priority over days.

Before he could reach a conclusion, the shift commander said flatly, "The Kazekage's youngest is missing, presumably wandering the desert."

No one spoke. No one dared breathe lest it call attention to them.

"This will be a solo mission, search and observe. Should the… boy wander further than ten miles from the village, he is to be returned by any means necessary. Standing orders are that back-up is called if he hits the eight mile mark for safety's sake."

It was the one order that few Suna shinobi followed. They had seen enough comrades pay that bloody desert god that they wouldn't drag more with them. If it weren't for the terror of someone figuring a way to control the beast and sending it to attack them, _someone_ would have figured out a way to let him wander all the way to another nation.

All of this was known, understood. It had happened often enough, and there hadn't been any newcomers recently so everyone had seen one of these missions get issued and had heard about the near inevitable ending. Every two out of three, someone, several someones, was crushed to a bloody paste and their name was added to the monster's toll.

If there were something he truly hated, it was Shukaku.

This entire process was a delay of the inevitable, the reading of the next name on the list. They went through all the currently-active ANBU in order of date joined, so the newest ideally had some time before their name was called. What it really meant was that everyone knew exactly when their time was up and it was their turn to play a game of chance with the desert's personal blood collector.

Bakemono Eiji finally glanced at the list in his hand, a useless gesture in all likelihood, and his eyes tightened, a reaction unusual in an ANBU, but too common in these circumstances. Katashi waited for the name, unable to remember who had been called last with so many years lying between his most recent memories and today (how had this happened, he shoved aside again), before recognizing the slight tremor in Takeshi, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as usual.

His eyes widened with horror as he realized why the day was important, why it quivered painfully in his mind. _Takeshi_. It was too soon! He had three more days, three more days! No, no this couldn't – changed already? How – no time no time _no time_ "I volunteer."

Silence, then a flurry of rustling as everyone turned to stare at him, Takeshi's eyes boring into the side of his head while Katashi just raised his chin and locked eyes with an incredulous Eiji. "I volunteer," he repeated, panic settling again, subsiding as he acted.

"Like hell you – "

"Don't. Make. Me. Stab. You," Katashi growled, voice low and dangerous and so _achingly desperate _how could no one hear that? – no matter didn't matter not now.

"You are aware, that this does not remove your name from the selection?" Eiji informed him calmly, "The current placement does not change, that operative will be next, and when your turn comes again it will still be yours?"

"Yes," Katashi said shortly. Everyone damn well knew 'that operative' was Takeshi. And they all damn well knew that right after Takeshi's name on that list was Katashi's. He was volunteering for two jobs in, possibly, as many days. For nothing, really. For not even a significant delay for Takeshi.

All he needed to do was get him past these three days. _All he needed to do_. If he had to figure out a way to lead Gaara through the desert for three whole days without exiting the ten-mile window, he'd do it. He'd kill his future Kage, his future friend his future leader because he _could not let _Takeshi be crushed to paste before his eyes, not now, not again, not ever.

"Very well. Squad Alpha, your assignment – "

"The _hell_ are you thinking?" Takeshi hissed in his ear while Eiji continued issuing squad-level assignments. "You bastard it's not going to _change_anything – "

"Not today, Takeshi," Katashi murmured, eyes bright with desperate grief and fear and _kami it hurt so much_, "Not _today_."

"The dream. Are you fucking serious this is because of some – "

"Not. Today."

"So what, if you _hadn't_ had that nightm-"

"I'd have let it go," Katashi lied, "I damn well know it probably won't change a thing. But not today. Not today."

If he had to he'd volunteer for every damned assignment from here until his death to keep Takeshi off that list and out of that grasp. Until he figured out a way to get through to Gaara himself. Until he resigned himself to sticking a crackling hand through his Kage's child-sized torso.

Takeshi glared at him, recognizing the lack of _something_ in his response but unable to pin it down – Katashi always could lie to him, just barely – before letting it go and barking an acceptance to Squad Epsilon's joint assignment with Gamma, smoothly taking command of the now one-man down squad.

Katashi let his fingers brush against his second's sleeve as he turned to leave, Crow mask slipping over his face and hood raised over the ensemble, straps tightened to secure them both for his run through windy dunes. He didn't need to ask for directions, he was a half-decent sensor, and that was all he needed to detect that poisonous raging chakra to the northeast.

Chakra burst into his limbs and he launched over the roofs of Sunagakure, running faster than anyone going after Sabaku no Gaara at this point had a right to. But he needed to get this over with, to put the sight of his comrades of his friends behind him and _think_ about what the hell he was going to do. Because Takeshi could not die this way. He would not let it happen again, not while he still breathed.

And fat lot of good he would do with all these years locked up in his head, critical knowledge lurking in his mind, if he died today.

The ripples of his death, he felt, would be relatively insignificant. Maybe Takeshi would become the protector-advisor-friend to their next Kazekage, maybe Takeshi would take his place in the ranks of the Fourth Shinobi War and the chaos that followed and preceded.

At least the fight with Hatake would be averted, Takeshi didn't particularly care for eggplant.

He launched up onto the cliffs, flashing handsigns at the patrols conveying his purpose and one custom sigil developed in recent years returning to him every time. It was a variation of the standard good luck gesture, seldom used by anyone because luck was scorned by professionals (fools), but this variant essentially meant 'may the demon not thirst for your blood today'.

He didn't hold out much hope, because _Takeshi_.

It had been a bare half-hour – half over rocky cliffs, half across dunes – when he caught glimpse of the bright red hair and pitifully small figure that had Suna cowering. He stopped, crouching down to observe the target. He didn't appear to be going anywhere, the sand around him moving unnaturally as the boy practiced his abilities.

On one level, since he wasn't going anywhere and they were well within the ten mile limit – even the eight mile limit was a ways off – Katashi could sit here and watch, and wait, and eventually the boy would head back to Suna for lack of any other options and needing food.

On another, Katashi knew that if that happened, this would happen again one day and Takeshi would be sent out because he wouldn't let Katashi volunteer for him again without drastic actions being taken, and Takeshi would be crushed again and Katashi would break. He could not witness that again.

He remembered reports from the chuunin exams and invasion years ago, he had been assigned the home-guard and had missed it, but he had heard of it. And he had heard of the attack of chirping lightning that had drawn blood and – if it had been a bit more true, a hair more powerful – could have killed him.

Katashi knew it was a sign of trust that Gaara had not objected to his learning it from Kakashi when the two Kages had been plotting together and their chief protectors-minders-friends had only the other for company.

Trust he was going to break, because the holder of that trust was as good as dead and he could not, _would not_, risk Takeshi for a man who might very well not exist anymore, may kami forgive him. He knew (hoped, hoped desperately) that Gaara, the Kazekage he had come to know and respect (love, as a leader, as a brother, as a son) would understand and agree.

He ventured closer, letting chakra gather in his hand, slowly pooling as he formed the jutsu he had struggled with so desperately just so he could_know_, if somehow, somewhere, he encountered something so strong and fierce as Shukaku he had a chance, until the boy detected him, while he was some hundred yards out. Better than he expected at that age, but not good enough with his speed and new jutsu.

Plunging recklessly forward as lightning spiraled into his palm, crackling and chirping and sounding damned _cheery_ for an over-the-top assassination jutsu he was frozen by a tone he recognized, though odd in a higher-pitched voice, barking, "Crow! _Hold!_"

He froze, quivering, unable to resolve the figure with the tone and hating himself for it because he had lost his chance, lost it utterly and now he was going to die for _nothing_ –

but…

There was no sand. No chakra charged sand surging up around him, filling into his lungs and suffocating him in burning hot grains as he strained against its unyielding hold and screamed screamed while bones and organs and everything was crushed crushed crushed until all that was left was blood and paste and porcelain dust –

"Crow! Release the chidori before you fall over!"

How did he know the jutsu's name?

Blankly, he let the jutsu dissipate and dropped to his knees, staring into the unnervingly green eyes in confusion, confusion turning to faint hope at the familiar gleam of worry so foreign to those eyes at this age, faint hope strengthening at the furrowed brow and solidifying at the achingly familiar utterance, "Katashi-san. Report."

"Godaime?" he rasped, "You – you remember?"

"I remember," Gaara confirmed, eyes widening with shock, deep circles under his eyes so much darker and deeper than they were as an adult. "You – you came back too?"

"I did, sir. What happened? I remember an idea to counter Tobi's time-space jutsu, to keep him from phasing through our attacks, but nothing else."

"The attempt went wrong, all I can presume is that instead of countering the jutsu we were thrown back in time and somehow woke in our old bodies. I was exhausted and ran outside of Suna as fast as I could, so that I could fall asleep and rebind Shukaku without casualties."

"I woke up in my old apartment," Katashi supplied, shifting so he was sitting sprawled on the sand, Gaara joining him and the sand forming to comfortable seats and cushions under his direction. It was an old trick, a tired trick by the time they traveled back, but one that was comforting in its tiredness. It was the final confirmation he needed (as if he hadn't confirmed it enough) that Gaara really was _his Kage_ again.

"I… was very confused. Attacked my youngest teammate when she spoke to me, I believe I thought she was some genjustu construct or imposter. Then – Takeshi, my second in command and other roommate, was there, and I somewhat accepted I had traveled back in time _somehow_, before reporting in for assignment with ANBU."

Here he paused, unhooking a canteen of water from his belt and taking a sip before passing it to Gaara, who accepted it with a mute nod of thanks, before he continued, "Your disappearance had been noted and someone was going to be sent out on a search and observe, possibly retrieve, mission and before he read the name on the list I remembered that three days from now, last time, Takeshi died when our squad was sent out to fetch you and I – I couldn't let that happen. So I volunteered in his place and… and decided that Takeshi alive, _now_, was worth more than the hope that I could avoid changing things enough you had a chance to become the Kage I remembered again."

Unable to think of anything else, he prostrated himself at Gaara's feet, not even able to apologize because it would be a lie and he respected Gaara too much for that.

An incongruously small and soft hand tucked under his chin and tilted his masked face up so their eyes could meet, Gaara having a small, barely there smile on his face (near a grin for him) and he said, "I understand, Katashi. You very rarely spoke about the times prior to the chuunin exams, but I heard you and Kakashi-san getting very drunk one night you were off duty together and remember the name at least."

"But you're here," Katashi said simply, before sitting up on his heels and laughing, "You're _here_ we're both _here_! Kaze- hmm. I suppose I can no longer call you that."

"It is Gaara, as I have said before, and now I will say again," the red-head glared and Katashi finally ceded victory, after years of arguing, and only because of their new circumstances which made his common formality unwise. "Very well, Gaara-san," he said, before continuing, "But you are_here_ now, and you have control of Shukaku – and Takeshi is safe from him. We're _safe_ from him now, by kami we're safe."

Everything, all that had happened, his panic, his confusion his terror and adrenaline and joy and winds knew what else was collapsing over him like an oncoming sandstorm and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down into humiliating sobs. As it was, he shuddered and collapsed in on himself, silently cracking right down the middle from sheer relief.

And in a gesture he knew it had taken Naruto-san quite a few years to get Gaara in the habit of, he found too small arms wrapping around him in an attempt to give comfort he greedily accepted to try and shore up his composure until he could activate his room's privacy seals and one-way silencers so he could completely break down without anyone demanding why and locking him away as yet another shinobi-gone-mad.

Finally he stilled, drawing himself in enough that he was able to restore his composure, his shinobi-mask, and he straightened, shifting so he was sitting more comfortably again in the sand. Gaara's arms remained tight around his waist and he noticed that his Kage – so small, so fragile – was also shaking. Mutely, he wrapped his arms around the child and returned the favor he had been granted, waiting with unending patience for the trembling to stop and for Gaara to pull away.

He didn't, even after the trembling had halted, and Katashi could hear his too young too quiet voice from where his face was buried in his burnoose, small fingers clinging to his vest, saying, "Temari and Kankuro are scared of me. They're _so scared_ Katashi-san."

Katashi knew the pain Gaara was feeling right now, understood it oh so well as teams broke and shattered around him. The two Gaara had grown to love and trust with everything and had in turn loved and trusted him with everything _back_ were gone. Merciful kami their _world_ was gone – as hard and brutal a fight as it had been they had to go back to killing their old allies, their old friends. Would he come up against those Kumo-nin he had worked with in the first battle, recognize their voices from joking taunts around campfires before he killed them? Would he – kami forbid – go on the invasion mission and come up against the Konoha-nin he had come to view as a near extension of Suna?

"But they won't be," Katashi replied, finally, "They weren't even with five more years of Shukaku's terrorization bearing down on them so that can be fixed sooner than later."

"You're not – you don't think I should try and preserve the timeline?" Gaara asked softly.

Katashi held back his immediate, violent rejection so he could give a more reasoned one, "No," he said, "No I do not. Because it would mean Shukaku killing recklessly and wantonly and I will not let you go back to Suna if that is your decision, my Kage or not."

Gaara shook with silent laughter, before saying, "I did not plan to. I could not do that, not to my people. I meant more the drastic events, the multi-nation ones."

"Like the invasion?" Katashi sighed heavily, "I do not think we can avert it."

"Maybe not before we arrive in Konoha, but if we could somehow approach the Hokage and tell him about the plan we could cut off Suna's involvement at least," Gaara pulled back from him and sat down, sand forming a comfortable seat around him, "But I also find myself considering who was with us when we constructed that time-space jutsu."

Katashi nodded, looking up at the bright, bright near-full moon shining down on them. The thought had also crossed his mind, "Naruto-san and Kakashi-san."

"And Naruto will most certainly not be preserving the timeline perfectly," Gaara chuckled (giggled, but Katashi would never tell him how adorable he sounded), "So we had best try and get in contact with them."

"I will start taking missions further afield and try to get assigned those out towards Konoha," Katashi sighed, "There is not much else we can do. Neither of us have summoning contracts to send messengers with, so we'll just have to wait."

Gaara sighed, before slumping tiredly into the sand, "I'm exhausted."

"Sleep. I'll keep the watch," Katashi replied, stretching out on the sand himself and letting his senses expand, noting and cataloguing the inputs so he could quickly recognize any disturbance.

Even and steady breathing from the body now curled against his side gave away Gaara's exhaustion, and he just smiled, hand dropping down to rest on the boy's back, other arm twisting up to rest under his head and he stared up at the stars and moon, the sky so clear so crisp so cold in the desert he had missed like a limb, phantom and tingling and aching until he was here. Here and home and _better_, so better, already.

His Kage was here, in Suna, with his team, his friends his friend-second-partner-_Takeshi_ and they were safe. They were _safe_ and by everything he held dear he would keep them alive and breathing and so, so _alive_ until he could breathe no more.


	2. Chapter 2

He staggered at speed towards Suna two hours before dawn. Gaara had only been able to sleep a few hours, still unused to it and probably always an insomniac, so they had worked on their skills to determine just how far they had to go.

Then Gaara had whisked away to go back to Suna and Katashi had stayed out for a while longer, practicing and practicing and _practicing_ because he had to make this work and he couldn't see them yet because he'd burst into tears and wretched sobs and –

He stayed out a few more hours before making his own way back, when he was hit with a mild case of chakra exhaustion, some cuts and bruises (his back had definitely not enjoyed that trip into the adobe wall) also inconvenient. So he took a slower route (still far faster than civilian speeds), until a standard patrol along the cliffs came upon him.

A flurry of fingers and signs and countersigns confirmed his identity and the moment that was confirmed he found green-wreathed hands running over him as two of the four-man squad eased him down onto the sandstone. The other captain, Boar – a captain with two years seniority on him, good man now saved because Shukaku had taken his blood on a mission gone right-wrong _saved_ –

Crouching next to him, Boar gripped his shoulder tightly, offering a silent nod before retreating to stand guard. The medic, Frog, released his iryo-jutsu and said, "Chakra-exhaustion, extensive bruising along his back – deep tissue, gave it a start but most of my work went into the bruised and cracked ribs. A vertebrate was weakened, and there was some pulled musculature from keeping moving. The bones are fixed, you'll need some more attention back in HQ."

"Right. Frog, Bee, escort him back. Deer and I will stay here and spar until you get back so we can finish the patrol."

"Thanks Boar," Katashi rasped – he'd run out of water, that's what had started him back.

"Brave thing you did. Stupid, pointless. But brave," Boar shrugged, "Recover quickly."

Bee – a deceptively slight man – slung him over his shoulder and turned on his heel, Katashi allowing the manhandling gracefully. Right now he just wanted to get back and sleep and wake up screaming as per usual and panic about where and when he was before he would pull it together and proceed about his day and try to figure out a way to contact Konoha.

But he would do it. He would do it all. Because _they were safe_.

He was deposited on a bed in their medical center, medics quickly healing him up enough for him to be fit for duty in a couple day's time so long as he didn't do anything stupid, then sending him on his way. Everyone he encountered had a brief touch, a quick nod, a glance at least, to share. It was an old ritual, to welcome a comrade back, and if it was one that everyone was more ardent about when it came to Shukaku missions well – it was rare enough to constitute a minor miracle when it occurred.

Mask locked away with his ninjato and hood lowered, burnoose common enough within Suna to not draw attention, he slowly made his way out of HQ, gracefully (gingerly) leaping onto the roofs so he could reach home. Some tea and some sleep, just what the medics ordered and he desired. A rare coincidence.

Reaching the door to their apartment, he let his head drop forward to rest on the wood, letting his memories of the sounds and smells and tastes and _voices_ that filled this apartment wash over him. It had echoed, with Takeshi's death. Kaoru had tried, the poor girl had tried, and their fourth member, Hirano Ikku, had even moved in temporarily, but five months after that, Hirano and Takeshi's replacement had died, leaving him and Kaoru, poor girl, drowning in an apartment that had once been a home.

Finally, she had turned in her resignation to ANBU and moved out, though Katashi had dragged himself forward enough to insist on inspecting her future home to ensure quality. They had laughed over the old argument, laughed and bid farewell.

She had died invading Konoha, how he hated Orochimaru and the elders for agreeing. Her old genin, at least, had passed the previous exam and had been under him in the home guard.

It wasn't until Gaara came back _Gaara_ and he had been forced to go on some missions with the newly sane young man that he had been able to sit in the apartment without feeling ghosts surrounding him.

That was when he broke down and moved out, to a small one-room affair more appropriate to a broken old ANBU like him. Then had come his promotions over the deaths of his comrades, Gaara's ascent, Akatsuki, brief peace, a new war and then – oh and then.

But it didn't matter, did it? None of it had happened _(yet)_ and none (some, most, all) of it would happen. So he really needed to get his act together and open the door before he fell asleep leaning on it and wouldn't that be embarrassing to have his team (his team oh kami his _team_) find him passed out in front of his own door like some drunkard?

Pushing his chakra into the security seals, he opened it without any alerts being sounded and stepped in, letting it click shut behind him. He was too busy staring at the three people sitting on the futons in the main room, cards and pile of knick-knacks indicating what they'd been doing to pass the time. They must have had a simple joint patrol mission then, nothing truly strenuous for today. That was common. When someone was sent out on a Shukaku mission the team was usually left with easy, one-day missions because their focus would be shot.

"Oh thank the winds," Takeshi breathed, dropping his cards and bolting over, pulling Katashi into a fierce hug that he returned quite happily, ignoring the aches caused by the rather tight grip.

Kaoru, the purple-haired girl, joined next with a glad cry of, "Taicho!" while Ikku just stood and came over to clasp his shoulder, the taciturn man's relieved expression exclamation enough.

Katashi just drank it all in, heart swelling as he felt his team-friends-family-_everything_ gather around him for the first time in near ten years, whole and unbroken and kami so _perfect_ he could hardly bear it. "You, old friend, are not allowed to volunteer for something ever again," Takeshi said around incredulous laughs, Kaoru pulling back with a grin and darting into the kitchen. Ikku just chuckled, a rumbling, bone-deep sound he had missed so much.

"I'll do my best," Katashi allowed, dropping down onto one of the futons and stretching out, Takeshi rolling his eyes and lifting his feet so he could sit down, Katashi's legs dropped to drape across his lap. A small smile on his face as Ikku and Takeshi cheerfully switched out some of their poorer cards, Katashi draped an arm over his eyes and let himself drift to true sleep for the first time in too long, friendly-familiar chakra-scents-voices-everything swaddling him in security he hadn't felt in – well. In too long.

He was home.

Wake. Genjutsu? No – predetermined it wasn't. Home, he was home, by _kami_ he was home – Kaoru, friendly, not an imposter yes hello good morning off to assignments and training. Sleep. Safe. So safe, so _home_.

He almost let himself fall into a routine, just rejoicing in being _home_ in being _here_ but there were just enough jarring inconsistencies to keep him from slipping entirely into the past as if the future had never happened.

Takeshi was alive. Every moment he sensed that chakra shadowing him through a mission, felt that clap on the shoulder at a job well done, a joke well told, heard the familiar phrases rants laughs he felt his heart swell with joy and the mantra surged _alive alive so alive alive happy content safe alive_. Even the next Shukaku mission failed to shake him, though he painted it well, Takeshi elbowing him viciously to keep him from volunteering (unnecessary) and left trying to feign anxiety he felt only at the absence of his friend-partner-center.

He had to build up his old techniques and reputation again. He had been an average genin in the Third War, Takeshi and he unique only in their remarkable teamwork. They had been equally unremarkable chuunin, until a mission gone wrong for Katashi had sent Takeshi rocketing through the rankings so he could cherry-pick a mission that sent him in the same direction.

The 'coincidental' finding and fight for freedom was something viewed with bemused distaste by many Suna-nin, at least officially. Unofficially they had become more trusted for it, for accomplishing missions _and_ saving their comrades when they could and even when they only 'could'.

Takeshi had been promoted to jounin while Katashi recovered and regained his old skills, before he followed Takeshi into promotion and then into ANBU, receiving their invitations from the same hand in the same moment and joining the same way.

But at all times they were average – good, excellent, they had to be, but average A-rank nins, no extraordinary bounties on their heads, not listed in every bingo-book, relatively unknown outside their village. It was a good place to be, really. But if he was going to keep from losing his old-new-so confusing skills, he needed to practice.

And to practice, he needed to build up. It'd be nice to have his old moniker again.

So if his friends and comrades were a little confused by his new passion for exploring wind-jutsu, they shrugged it off as a natural development. Everyone went through phases where they were more passionate about novel training rather than simple maintenance, this was just one of those.

Of course, that dragged a bemused team into it, Takeshi and Kaoru improving their already impressive kenjutsu while Ikku decided to improve his trapping techniques and tracking while he was at it. All Katashi could do was look on in contentment as Takeshi learned a kata he'd never had the chance too, as Kaoru discovered her gift for dual-wielding, undiscovered until she'd left ANBU last time, and Ikku learned to place and escape traps that had claimed him the last time around.

And before he knew it, it had been months, and they were training as a team in the cliffs when an urgent message arrived in the form of the ANBU Commander himself, all four of them snapping to attention when the man, mask blank and unpainted but for the Suna sigil on his forehead, appeared in the training grounds. "Squad Epsilon," he said shortly, "The Kazekage's children have been taken while training outside the walls. You will join the personal guard in pursuit and rescue. Meet at the Eastern Gate in ten."

He then vanished in a swirl of sand, shunshining to next on his list. Katashi swore, Takeshi echoing him even as the four launched forward to reach ANBU HQ as quickly as possible so they could don their full armor, grab scrolls sealing supplies of all sorts and sign out, making it to the gate in eight. Katashi listened as the head of the other four-man squad gave the briefing, fierce anger thrumming in his blood because _this hadn't happened_ before. Even with his mourning and grey-bleak-bland state after Takeshi's death he would have noticed the Kazekage's children being attacked and successfully abducted.

If this attempt had happened then, Gaara-as-Shukaku must have stopped it. Now, if the boy were knocked out Shukaku wasn't freed to rampage, which made the potential for kidnapping much higher. This meant there would probably be an actual bodyguard squad assigned to the Kazekage's youngest, whereas before he was just left to his own devices. Katashi would have to see about getting on that rotation, it might make meeting up easier.

The group of eight was racing across the dunes, Katashi able to sense Gaara's familiar chakra in that direction and the protection detail having a scent and sensor based tracker team to get them the proper heading as well. The sun was beating down on them, and Katashi took the opportunity to work on his own sand-techniques, an extension of his sensor-talents this time.

Extending his chakra out in the direction of their target, he let it tap on every grain it touched and his attention fractured with an expert twist. Angles wind feet – target? no rabbit ignore move on – sun heat baking wind scatters across the dunes strike! tumble down twist burn heat hot blue blue blue so bright and gold and hot –

Running, still running, feet not pounding, gliding over sand across sand under sand team-family-_Takeshi_ –

Eruption poison it _burns_ –

"Got 'em," he said flatly, "Shukaku's woken up."

"Heading?"

"Nor-nor-east, adjusting now," and he planted a heel to spin to the proper heading and launched forward, leading this time and keeping his net extended out, now in all directions so he could detect anyone approaching them in an ambush.

It was disorienting – strike wind flurry blue! – with footsteps sending sand spiraling into the air to crash down, shadows suddenly – hot cool hot too hot cool only a moment golden heat hot – weaving in and out against the dunes. But he could feel the target and he could feel _their_ target – slash of air whirl of tessen strike blue gold _hot_ – even as Shukaku roared and bubbled up under Gaara's control – burning poison crushing pressure burns it burns it _burns _fling crush grind wet –

Wet cool damp fall in clumps and scatter absorb moisture greedily heat bakes baking blood – some nin were down, it seemed. He reported that to the others, but there was no time for them to reply as they heard Shukaku's roar echoing in the empty dunes, just barely starting to transition to the scrub and mesquite that formed the border with Fire and River country.

Somehow they all found an extra burst of speed and with no need to speak to coordinate targets (because they were _ANBU_, this was what they_did_) the group of eight hurtled into the fight between a half-delirious Kankuro who was still tripping the nin who'd abducted him up, sending them into Temari's flurry of wind-jutsu's, a vicious blood-stained smile on the girl's bruised face.

Shukaku wasn't fully manifested, Katashi recognized it as a false-Shukaku construct Gaara had started using when they'd heard about Akatsuki's targets, and it was focused on one target only, who he well recognized from the future and couldn't help but respect. It was Kakuzu of the Hidden Waterfall. Wasn't _that_ interesting?

He pulled all his chakra back in, shattered foci merging back so he was all in one place again. If he was going to be helping his Kage with Kakuzu he would need everything he could get.

The man was laughing as sand poured in onto him, his masks apparently hidden away from their crushing power, but Katashi just grinned, drawing his ninjato and plunging forward, winds answering his call and spiraling twisting slashing sand shifted and _there_ first blood!

Kakuzu snarled and lunged for him, engaging in a brutal tai and kenjutsu battle, Katashi struggling to keep the rapid pace. Parry strike lunge –_there had to be an opening just need to –_ twist out of the way slash with a breeze spring overhead land and twist – _Gaara didn't look so good did they poison him? –_ fuck those damn threads he _hated _those blasted things _move_ – where was back-up the others couldn't be at this level, could they?

His brief distraction cost him and Kakuzu flashed through a lightning release, bolts leaping for him and Katashi swore, lunging back and diving into the sand of the dunes, using his mixed Earth and Wind affinities to move through it easily.

He could still feel the heat and _burn_ of the lightning forming dune-glass above him and he didn't waste a moment, crashing up and through the dune-glass barely solid and calling wind to hurl the razor hot-sharp shards at Kakuzu, distracted by Takeshi's earth jutsu at least momentarily.

No time for triumph, the back of Kakuzu's shirt was shredded and the masks were just visible, one with a promising crack down the middle but not enough. Quick, engage – _kami he was fucking fast _– dodge hurl a wind-enhanced shuriken was that a stumble – _Ikku! Genjutsu perfect timing old friend _– kunai digs deep deep into his chest slotting between ribs nicely there you are one heart down four to go!

A brief pause on the others' part though – they didn't recognize Kakuzu's techniques and he barely got Kaoru out of the way of threads aiming for her heart when he heard screams and oh kami _no you don't you crow-bait scum!_

Wind-chakra pouring down his ninjato he severed every last one of those blasted cursed threads digging into wiggling through buried under friend-partner-center-_no you will not have him I refuse!-_Takeshi's skin. It was too much though and Katashi's ninjato, not a chakra-enhanced blade to begin with, shattered under the strain, all he could do to keep the shards from striking his wounded comrades.

Kakuzu had taken advantage of that delay, grabbing a semi-conscious but struggling Gaara, sand erupting around him even as he took off north again. Katashi snarled and hesitated for one long desperate _what did he do who did he go after why was this even a question his Kage needed him_ – gone. He bolted, charging into the desert with the wind at his back to give him even further speed, something he needed desperately to catch up to Kakuzu.

Chakra signatures let him know that he wasn't alone in his pursuit, but they were falling behind. He'd have to hold him until they caught up then. Damn. Hand going to his belt he quickly pulled out a soldier pill and ripped down his cloth mask to stuff it in his mouth under the cool porcelain. Resettling his gear without so much as a hitch in his step, Katashi acknowledged that he was going to have to use his old move, one he hadn't yet had a chance to build up to and actually practice with his new, lesser reserves. Good thing he'd had that soldier pill.

He threw his awareness outward again, chakra letting him draw the air-currents the sand the sun his home every little piece of it into himself into his being it became him he became it and then he waited waited and ran, ran so fast until _there the monster was CRUSH HIM!_

Winds howled and roared and dunes buckled and surged up around him around them and he could almost _hear _Gaara's wondering laugh as the desert responded like it never did except to him – _now is not the time to reminisce, focus! – _every piece of the desert, his home what he'd studied and loved and cherished and missed answering his call responding as he predicted and raising up a highly localized highly chaotic symphony of bone-searing heat and skin piercing winds and lung clogging sand called the _storm_.

Kakuzu snarled in rage and he felt him plunge back towards him, the winds and sands his eyes and ears and he was _ready_ for this fool for this coward ha! Fist surging forwards he crushed Kakuzu's windpipe, about to stab down into his back after his flip and barely managing to avoid stabbing a frighteningly still Gaara who was strapped to the man's back.

Snarling in frustration he sprang back up and away into the storm, Kakuzu's taunting laughter following him. _Think! Think how was this done before – more than one person idiot – one down four to go four to go come on this is possible you can _do this_ just go!_

Flurry of movement flash of seals wind juts out over his knuckles following the metal ribs of his gloves to create the humming-blue blades of razor now find him find him there and slash twist around the threads and knives _shit_ that was a slice _stab_ up and left and _twist _the fist in his chest cut those pulsing organs to nothing one more down! Gaara cried out and he took Kakuzu's brief pause to absorb a heart to cut the cords holding Gaara to him and slam him out into the storm, trusting the desert to take care of her favored son for now.

Wind whipped around them and sliced deep with sharp sand – only his mask keeps his own squinting wincing and watering eyes safe, Kakuzu's are gouged deep with sand and he can probably barely see shit _move it_! The wind tugged him out of the way, easily carrying him out of Kakuzu's strike's path the moment he released his chakra-enhanced hold on the ground and Kakuzu snarled, changing tactics and burrowing into the sandy earth.

_Can't let him reach solid earth he'll escape! Narrow focus force it there _– winds twisted and contracted and he fell onto the sand once more, dunes rustling as the winds howled, forcing into a funnel that Naruto-san had actually helped him with and he drove it down into the sand pulverizing sand to powder and dunes to sand and rocks to dust and where was he where was he _had to find him_ got it!

Threads surged and pulsed up around his tornado of razor-sharp wind and sand, smothering it but not without serious damage and Katashi was heartened to see Kakuzu leap out of the sand-blasted and scraped pit he'd formed with only one mask-figure beside him – two left he'd almost done it kami he was so tired he needed to rest – no! Not now!

Kakuzu's expression was grimly focused as he dove towards him with even faster taijutsu than before, Katashi barely able to keep up and faltering occasionally, deep bruises gouges and if he wasn't mistaken a cracked rib shit shit _shit_ –

Judging by the barriers, pits and earthen spears that he was now twisting his way around desperately trying to catch a breath, Kakuzu had absorbed his earth mask.

Crap where was the other -?

Sand blasted into him and he was flung away, barely able to control his landing to avoid injuring himself further but there was no time, by the time he fell Kakuzu was there striking him in the gut with a vicious strong punch and sending him crashing back again _fuck_ he was tired.

No he wouldn't stop he couldn't he _would not he refused_ – slash with a kunai, gather chakra as much as possible – _no no not doing that tunnel-vision isn't a good thing let's leave that for now _– dodge dodge slip and dodge again, twist away from the blow strike at a tendon blade skitters of bone _dammit_ he wasn't doing very well was he?

Suddenly someone else was there and he had a chance to breathe – Cat, it was Cat, protection detail never worked with him before – _oh that was a nice water jutsu, very unexpected where'd he get the water? – _chance to pop another soldier pill, last one of the day unless he wanted to die (no not just yet please).

Hands trembling as raw chakra pulsed through his exhausted muscles, he searched out the other mask and found it dead and shattered thank kami. Returning his focus to Kakuzu, he realized that the nuke-nin knew damn well all his other hearts were spent and his time was coming up and he was trying to get away he couldn't get away not when they were so damned _close_.

Cellular level, damage at the cellular level – couldn't do that not here, not enough control – control control that was what he didn't have that was what he couldn't use perfect! Grinning with a twist of chapped lips he sent his chakra burrowing into the sand, a familiar poisonous chakra joining him and he nearly laughed as he spotted a slowly moving head of red hair.

He waited for the other ANBU to be thrown back and Gaara led the surge, rising to his feet and hands sweeping out in one smooth motion (Katashi was left barely on his knees, hands locked in a hand-sign to concentrate) while sand boiled up around the struggling nuke-nin, covering him entirely except for his head and by _kami_ this was the only time he'd ever really been thrilled to see that Sand Coffin jutsu, Kakuzu's head all that was recognizable of the paste his body had become.

"Fuck was that?" Cat gasped, propping himself up slowly, "Crow, status?"

"Exhausted," Katashi croaked, pulling out one of their corpse scrolls and staggering to his feet, sealing away the head of a world-renowned nuke-nin (now _there_ was the timeline shot to hell) with slightly shaking hands. He turned to Gaara, who was swaying where he stood, still looking unhealthily pale, and gave a thumbs up, "Nice one. We're awesome!"

He threw his arms up in the air and collapsed back into the bloody sand-paste that was Kakuzu. He should probably be grossed out about it, but he was too tired to care. And now that the adrenaline was wearing off, all those aches and pains (and cuts and cracked-broken-damaged bones and scrapes and maybe a pulled muscle or two) came roaring back and he groaned, "Damage Cat?"

"Minimal. Sprained wrist, some cuts, don't think they're poisoned."

"I have a scroll of medical supplies."

"I do to, standard issue – think you can bandage me?"

"Ugh, no. I can't move… Gaara-san? Have you been taught how to bandage wounds?"

"Umm… I'll be fine, really – "

"Yes," Gaara said flatly, walking over to Cat, who was shaking slightly now. Even with months and no deaths, Gaara's reputation wasn't one that would be worked past quickly or easily, especially not without an emergency or failed invasion culling a lot of the old shinobi forces and leaving them desperate for a strong figure to latch onto.

Katashi watched carefully as Cat fearfully let Gaara tend to his wounds, small hands expertly prodding and salving and binding the injuries before neatly returning everything to the scroll in a flurry of hand-seals. "Crow-san, may I examine your injuries?" Gaara asked formally, slight quirk of his lips when Cat couldn't see him indicating his amusement at this ruse of unfamiliarity.

"Of course, Gaara-san," Katashi replied with an idle flick of his fingers, about all he could move at this point, "Watch the ribs please. Actually – Cat, do you know any medical jutsus?"

"Just the basics," Cat replied, and Katashi frowned behind his masks, mentally debating the wisdom of Cat carrying Gaara, but not seeing that end well _at all _with how terrified the man had been at Gaara tending his injuries, not draped over his back or cradled close to his chest in position to do serious damage with ease.

"I can carry us with my sand," Gaara said flatly, Katashi hissing as he carefully tended to a deep cut in his side, still bleeding sluggishly where the armor couldn't divert it entirely to bruising. Cat trembled but didn't object, also on his last legs from the tremor in his legs he was struggling to stand through.

"Much appreciated Gaara-san, do you know the way to Suna from here?" Gaara nodded needlessly, and Katashi continued to pretend he was in charge, saying, "Stop at the cliffs. There is no need to cause alarm by our arrival and patrols should come out that far."

"By then I will recover enough energy to run ahead," Cat offered and Katashi nodded agreeably, understanding it was useful and would get Cat away from Gaara before he had a complete panic attack.

"Then Gaara-san, if you could leave the healing to Cat and start us on our way?" the nod was unnecessary, he felt the chakra pulse out of him and the sand shift around him. Cat dropped to his knees beside him and put his hands on Katashi's side, trembling easy to feel now. Katashi carefully reached to wrap a hand around the older man's wrist, "Easy," he murmured, "Take it easy. We'll be fine."

Cat nodded once, clearly not agreeing but knowing there was nothing else they could do, and starting to catalog his injuries to heal the more serious ones first, or at least get them started. "Status on the others?" he asked, needing something to keep his attention beyond the clear bright too-bright sky because otherwise he was going to fall asleep and that would not be good for Cat's leashed terror.

"Temari-san and Kankuro-san were recovered, mild injuries. One nin captured for interrogation, others dead. Lion was killed. Mantis was injured, possibly critical. Ox and Quail were in fighting shape" _oh yes how helpful, fighting through broken bones was a must in ANBU _"Raven was critically injured. Tiger also had minor injuries and mild chakra exhaustion."

Katashi hummed lightly, then hissed as cracked ribs fused back together properly, "How many soldier pills have you had, Cat-san?"

"One, sir."

"Will you be sufficiently recovered when we reach Suna to go for aid?"

"Yes sir!"

There was no further need for conversation and Cat soon stopped his feeble iryo-jutsus, having done the best he could without exhausting himself. Katashi kept his gaze on the blue sky above him and tried to keep himself from thinking about Takeshi's fate – critically injured had its own niche in ANBU, not the same standards as other shinobi, so he knew that it didn't look good.

Nine extra weeks, that was all that was _it _kami he could lose him now after all that after everything he would still lose his friend-center-partner-_Takeshi_ kami why bother then, nine weeks, nine pathetic weeks – _worth it! Worth every second don't you dare pretend it wasn't you'd do it all again for those nine pathetic weeks nine weeks of Takeshi-friend-partner-comrade-everything alive alive who cares nine more weeks was_everything.

"I wonder what his happening in Konoha right now?" he murmured aloud, idly, seeking distraction and his mind greedily latched onto it and he was able to quietly pass out in peace.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"So nothing taking you towards Suna?" the blonde child asked his companion, where they were sitting around a table in a run-down apartment that you would never guess was one of the most secure places in the Nations (recent development, nine weeks to be precise).

"Sandaime-sama is keeping an eye out, and no. At some point he will simply fabricate one but for now we need to lie low and get your training up. Orochimaru's bases are being investigated, slowly, but the best opportunity for that will be the chuunin exams."

"And we'll have to deal with Tobi – crap how are we going to find that guy? Gah. I'll get to work on the Danzo angle then – we just need some proof for Root, right? Then jiji will get out of the way?"

"Maa Naruto, if he does not then we will arrange it around him, Danzo needs to go."

"It's too damn bad we missed the massacre, but since we weren't even planning on this much – not complaining."

"Not complaining at all. Heard you scared the living daylights out of a certain ramen-stand owner?"

"Kaka-sensei! Ichiraku is _back_ how can I _not_ overreact to that?! It's _ramen!_"


	3. Chapter 3

Katashi woke up to pale tan ceilings and quiet voices only just audible over the muted beeps of medical devices. "So no one actually knows what the hell happened with that nin?" Kaoru was asking quietly, "They looked like puppet-strings but they were grey and black and just – ugh! Kakuzu of Hidden Waterfall? Who the hell comes from Hidden Waterfall?"

Silence – Ikku was apparently gifting her with one of his speaking looks, as Kaoru snorted and said, "Kakuzu, of course. Way to state the obvious Ikku."

"He failed an assassination on the Shodaime Hokage. Big bounty on him too, taicho made good."

"We didn't do so shabby ourselves!" Kaoru pointed out, sounding decidedly smug (knowing her, more because she'd gotten Ikku to talk than anything), "S-rank for a Shukaku mission, A-rank retrieval, couple A-rank bounties to split? What are _you_ complaining about, taicho did good and we did too! Go team!"

There was just one voice and chakra signature – _the _voice, _the_ chakra signature – missing and while he doubted they would sound so… so un-burdened if Takeshi were – if he were actually _gone_ but he couldn't hear that voice or sense that chakra or hear extra breathing or lacking breathing or anything and good kami he was panicking over this he'd just woken up _really – _"Takeshi!" he jerked half-upright in the bed before collapsing back with a groan, the two shinobi sitting in his room jumping to alert and he grimaced a smile at them before demanding, "Where is he? Where's – "

"He's here, he's here he's fine taicho! Well – he's… he's alive," Kaoru amended, Ikku quietly pouring him some water before sticking his head out the door to alert the nurses he was awake. "Whatever that Kakuzu did it – it hurt his chakra pathways a bit, and they don't – it's going to take a while, to see if he can stay a shinobi. His internal organs were damaged when the string-things were cut, they were wrapped around them and the medics were really worried about his heart that was almost _netted_ by the things but they got them out with surgery and they think he'll be okay, he just – he hasn't woken up yet past a few minutes or so. So no chance to ask questions but he seemed aware and everything!"

"Alive? Alive oh thank – " Katashi bit back his recitation and felt his surge of energy and adrenaline leave him exhausted again, slumping against the raised bed and letting his head roll slightly to the side so he could keep them in line of sight. "Your own status, you two? Not bed-bound I see."

"Just some cuts and bruises taicho, nothing serious," Kaoru assured him, flipping her purple hair over her shoulder, "Ikku here tried to get out of his medical check but I pinned him down for it, so yes we're sure! Now – for the important part! How are _you_ feeling taicho? Cat was babbling something about a sandstorm and a tornado and it sounded like you had a _fun_ time out there! How many times did you have to kill him?"

"He had to die five times," Katashi said, holding out his hand as a prop and ticking them off one by one, "The first, when we were all there before he attacked Takeshi. The second, during the localized storm, he was sufficiently distracted. The third, the sandspout. The fourth I was not responsible for, it was either Cat-san or Gaara-san. The fifth was a joint crushing using chakra charged sand. His head is sealed in my scrolls somewhere."

"Oh we know," Kaoru smiled, "Turns out there's a bit of a bonus if some of his body can be brought back – well, it says body, but maybe they just need the head? So Bakemono-san was thinking about that being your next mission, when you're well enough. Delivery to the Village of Hidden Waterfall! Wouldn't that be neat? I've never been that far out!"

Katashi just sat back and let Kaoru's conversation – a few simple responses and statements coaxed out of Ikku for good measure – wash over him. Takeshi and Kaoru were the chatterboxes of his team, or they had been until one had been killed _crushed pulped slaughtered no chance none at all stop it didn't happen he's alive he's alive stop it right now_ – Kaoru-chan had never gotten back into her usual chatter, not while she was in ANBU. They'd just started coming back together when Ikku died and they were left alone to stare in silence at one another over a too-empty table and across too-quickly filled lockers.

He had missed them, missed _this_ and he was so unspeakably grateful that their screwed up time-space ninjustu had somehow sent them here sent him _this_ again. He felt a pang for his old-not-yet-then-now brother at arms Hatake because even this miracle was too late for him for his precious broken (yet somehow still half-alive and so problem causing) team-from-Before.

But he couldn't bring himself to wish they'd gone further back so Hatake had his team, because it was a himself or him situation and Katashi was honest enough with himself to know that he was a selfish, selfish person and he'd choose _this_ team, _this_ chance, _this_ time over any other in his life. His genin team had been a broken, sad thing sent off to die in front-lines they were too young and poorly prepared to handle. His chuunin missions had been with Takeshi and then a disaster until he was pulled out of that hellhole by the same brilliant-bright-voice-chakra-friend-center-everything as always and jounin had been solo or Takeshi.

ANBU had been the first team they'd had since their genin days, and it was the only team they'd had that actually worked around their own bonds, formed around them in a net and not a line. Terror-stifled and heavy-hearted as these years had been for him they had, looking back and living now and good kami this was a miracle, been some of the happiest years of his life.

A group of chakra presences halted on the other side of the door and Kaoru and Ikku both turned to cover each other in case it were an attacker, careful to block him from easy view. It was a habit of many shinobi and the medics had simply grown used to it, letting their chakra be detected so at least their arrival wasn't an entire (and then lethal) surprise.

Their defensive stances immediately shifted to respectful bows when the door opened and the Yondaime Kazekage stepped through, Katashi stiffening and bowing his head, murmuring with them, "Kazekage-sama."

"At ease, shinobi," the man said shortly, Kaoru and Ikku straightening and demurely moving to the side of the room, Katashi raising his head and leaning back against the hospital bed. A nurse came around to his side and murmured questions as to his status, requiring only brief answers while she checked various machines to fill out his chart. Nodding shortly to him, she turned and bowed deeply to the Kazekage before heading out to continue her rounds. With any luck she'd come back and tell him what exactly was going on with him and when he'd be able to get out of here – if not, he'd just send Kaoru after her.

Flanking the Kazekage were Bakemono Eiji, his shift-leader, and the perpetually masked ANBU Commander. Two other ANBU members of the Kage's Guard were also in the hospital room, making it rather crowded. "Your report, Makiguchi-san," the Kazekage said coolly, "Beginning from the gates."

Katashi nodded shortly and began, report well-practiced and smooth despite this being his first full recitation. Years of giving rapid-turn-around reports paid off in spades as he was able to coherently and concisely give the necessary information without any of the odd tangents his own mind had sprung onto during the events themselves. Extensive practice kept his voice level and calm as he described events that had sent him-at-the-time into a roaring rage and he didn't hit any problems until the sandstorm.

Katashi artfully hesitated, unwilling to imply he had actually generated it when he hadn't built up to that level of control in his own practices, so instead he sent of a quick prayer and said carefully, "I am uncertain as to the exact source of the sandstorm. I have been working on a combination of wind and sand techniques with that end-result in mind, but as I have not yet practiced in controlled conditions or even combined most of the techniques yet, I cannot say if the sandstorm which occurred was a successful first case or something else entirely."

The Kazekage only nodded and Katashi shoved aside his brief concern that Gaara had expected him to claim it entirely and reported with that in mind, because even if he had, the boy was physically six and considered psychotic – his report was automatically suspect to the highest degree.

He continued, careful to make sure he never mentioned prior knowledge of Kakuzu's necessary five deaths, and reported as if he and Cat had simply kept trying to kill him until he stayed dead. By the time he concluded with his passing out, he was certain that he had spun it perfectly and, more importantly, simply enough that he would not have any trouble writing out the same.

"Upon your recovery, you will go to Taki and collect the bounty on Kakuzu as well as the bonus for body-recovery," the Kazekage said after a few moments tense silence. "Details will be in the assignment. Continue your work with the sandstorm and determine if it is replicable, my youngest is interested. Your mission pay slips are awaiting your discharge."

Nodding shortly, the Kazekage waited for him to approximate a bow while bed-bound before sweeping out, Kaoru and Ikku bowing him out as well. Eiji-san waited and gave quick instructions that Katashi could have recited in his sleep about turning in the paper report before departing, none of them giving him the information he actually wanted.

Turning to Kaoru, he asked, "Kaoru-chan, could you go find a nurse and get them to tell me how long I'm stuck here? And an update on Takeshi's condition if possible."

"Of course taicho!" she chirped, darting out the door. Ikku and he both exchanged tolerantly amused looks – she was such a bright presence, it was a strange character to have in the shinobi world and in Suna's ANBU in particular. It was refreshing.

"How are things?" Katashi asked his last teammate, a man who was very willing to just drop into the background and subsequently very hard to get direct answers from. After they had worked together a few missions, Katashi had a decent handle on reading him and now, after a couple years together as team members, he could take Ikku's complacent shrugs and quirks of fingers and brows as sagas. Takeshi and Kaoru still had trouble with it from what he remembered.

Ikku gave a half-shrug and flick of fingers, _Slow, injuries kept us down. Interesting rumors._

"Oh? What sort?"

Eye-roll, shifting weight and disinterested slump translated to, _Shukaku, you._

"Ah. Cat was a little nervous."

Ikku snorted in amusement, half-smiling and shaking his head, _Of course he was taicho, it was the demon kid._

"Gaara. Name's Gaara. Demon's Shukaku."

Head tilt, a wordless inquiry.

Katashi just shrugged uncomfortably, unsure how to say what had taken him years to realize previously, years and desperation. Now it was like he had woken up one day with a deep understanding of a reality that their entire shinobi world had a tendency to brush off and ignore outside of the few who really cared for jinchuuriki.

That was what he really liked about Ikku, the man could tell Katashi didn't really know what to say, had meant what he said previously, and left it at that. He knew Katashi would explain when he could, when he had figured out how to verbally explain what he felt, but wouldn't push it and frustrate them both at their inability to understand each other clearly.

He made a mental note to get him introduced to Gaara. A bit of exposure and the two could probably go days without saying a single word and miss none of the conversational interaction.

They sat in comfortable silence until Kaoru returned with a nurse in tow, Katashi informed he would be stuck here at least a day for observation, and then on strict rest orders for a few more days. He wouldn't be going on that mission to Taki for a week, and they wouldn't know if Takeshi could continue as a shinobi until he woke up and began physical therapy, which they didn't think would happen for a few more days at least, though hopefully there would be some indication before he left.

On one level, he desperately wanted to know before he was sent out on a longer mission. On another, he didn't know how he could bear it if the news was bad –_ any news was better than dead crushed pulped gone shut up! -_ and he was required to leave for kami knew how long.

It'd have to wait though. It was out of his hands.

That night he was staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep and tormented by thoughts of all the possible futures and all the ways things could go worse – they had been so close to winning. They hadn't _been_ winning, but they'd had allies, had a plan, had _lots_ of plans actually and now suddenly they were back in time with the dead alive both good and bad and every step and breath they took having a chance to derail the entire thing and send the world spiraling into chaos and doom. He was back in a place where they lived with the threat of nation-against-nation war. He was back in a time where Suna was struggling to prove their worth and get missions from their own daimyo.

Not to say the future was perfect, far from it. Battles against a super-powered nigh unstoppable enemy, mass destruction and devastation sure – but he had allies. He had _friends_ – a shogi group made up of strategists and hobbyists from all over the globe, sparring partners that were fresh and challenging because he'd never seen their techniques before, brothers and sisters and partners and lovers that were from different paths, different lands different _villages_ and was it wrong to say he missed that? To say he was terrified that on a mission taken now he would face and kill someone he remembered joking and laughing with? That he would cripple a ninja he remembered as a fierce sparring opponent and a fantastic fighting partner?

If they destroyed Akatsuki, if they went after Tobi and Madara and the rest and did it before the Fourth War could happen, before there was some huge threat to unify the nations – would it ever happen? Would he be condemning future generations to endless cycles of wars and rise and falls of nations? Was there any way that Naruto's vision, that _their_ vision, their _dream_ of a time of peace where shinobi from different villages could chat techniques over some drinks without fear could actually come true without such an overwhelming opponent to unite them against?

Sighing heavily, Katashi started his meditation _again_, hoping this time it would actually take and he'd have a chance of falling asleep.

Before he could sink into a trance (try to at least) he detected a familiar poisonous-friendly-weird chakra and looked over at the door. Gaara entered, the wall to the next room parting before him and then reforming to its solid sandstone state, and raised an eyebrow at him, mutely inquiring after his health and why he was awake.

"Thoughts are running wild," Katashi replied to the latter, "Should be out in a few days, mission a couple days after that."

Nodding, Gaara used sand to help him get up onto Katashi's bed, sitting cross-legged at his feet with a sigh, slumping tiredly, "That didn't happen before," he said simply.

"At all?" Katashi asked, surprised, "I assumed it had but you were knocked unconscious and Shukaku dealt with it."

Gaara paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head, "I do not think this happened before at all. After Yashamaru's death… I never actually trained outside the walls with Temari and Kankuro. This was the second time since our own return."

"Opportunity, or planned?" Katashi frowned, "With Kakuzu I would hesitate to label this purely coincidental – I think this was an early Akatsuki attack. They are around now, the Uchiha massacre happened before. I cannot recall when they started actively collecting the bijuu though."

"I cannot remember details either," Gaara frowned, "I did not have access to and did not have much interest in the details of it until after I became Kazekage, and then we were more concerned with fighting them than in studying just when they started."

"At this point I was in a half-aware grey most of the time," Katashi said with a shrug, "After Takeshi was killed it was months before I truly start remembering details of missions and Suna's status – I only really remembered major events for years and other nations were not my concern, I remained very much an internal-affairs shinobi."

"Well that will have to change," Gaara said, "We need to get to Konoha, or at least near it. I pushed on the sandstorm with my father in the hopes he'll give you a longer-term mission so you can 'practice'. That will hopefully give a window to contact the other two."

"Agreed," Katashi nodded shortly, before looking out at the dark midnight sky and sighing, "Shogi?"

Gaara smirked and waved a hand, sand forming a shogi-board and set, designs indicating the different sides. Katashi grinned and moved his first piece. This was a tradition he had sorely missed.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"Fancy meeting you here," a familiar voice drawled a little over a week later, a solid presence dropping down to sit next to him at the base of a tree in the middle of one of Hi no Kuni's many forests.

_Not just any tree – Sasuke had died under this tree covering a retreat and redeeming himself with spinning red-eyes a cursed clan ending with kin-slayers like it always was meant to happen_ – Katashi brushed the memories of what-would-not away and instead simply relaxed further, loose-limbed and ready to leap into whirling blazing death. Neither shinobi spoke for a long while, ANBU masks at their belts in blatant violation of protocol, hita-ate from only nominally allied villages making the shoulder-to-shoulder scene surreal to anyone not of their time-never-yet-to-come.

"Been here a few days. Worried you hadn't made it back," Katashi finally said.

"Mah, had to finish a team mission and get a solo. That was a remarkably unsubtle flare you pulled."

"Figured if you were here you'd keep an eye out but I couldn't be too subtle or I'd convince myself to keep trying until I got myself killed," he shrugged, his cyclopean comrade echoing the gesture before leaning back against the tree with a sigh.

"Hope you weren't trying to vigorously conserve the timeline," Katashi continued after another long, comfortable silence. "Because Kakuzu's dead."

A slightly tilted head and a raised eyebrow was his response, and Katashi just chuckled before leaning back against the tree's rough bark as well, fingers lacing over his stomach as he explained the attack and the aftermath. And if he reverently spoke of a still-breathing still-whole _so perfect_team, Kakashi was the best person to speak to for it, because he knew that the man understood and would have done the same had this worked out towards his favor.

"I am sorry," Katashi finally offered, before honestly amending, "Or at least sympathetic, that you cannot have your team back."

"Maybe not _the_ team," Kakashi murmured, dark grey eye shut and narrow sliver of face peaceful, chakra a soothing crackling rumble next to him. "But my team now, my friends now, are nothing to sneer at. And I have Team Awesome, of course."

Katashi snickered at the name Naruto had came up with for the four of them while they had been lurking in a cave with some of the Shinobi Allied Forces, waiting for their more exhausted members to regain some energy. "Of course," he allowed, "Separated by leagues and deserts and borders, but always."

"Always," the Hatake echoed.

They should probably continue a knowledge-swap. He should probably be asking questions right now, about what they had been up to in Konoha, if anyone had figured out something was odd, if there was a plan, an inkling, of what they were to do. Discuss consequences of meddling, of what meddling had already happened, examine the possibilities they needed to consider-contain-pick-and-choose.

But the weather was beautiful, there was no one but them around for miles in all directions, and it had been a long, long time since they'd been able to simply sit peacefully in silence and let worries for the war, the future, their Kages (reckless, ridiculous, inspiring, everything) simply drop away for the moment.

Katashi was going to enjoy it while he could. Suna was going to be… tense, on his return.

"_Hey taicho," Takeshi had whispered, Katashi standing in uniform at his bedside. He had been collecting his mission scroll from Bakemono-senpai when a messenger came in that Takeshi was awake, so his departure had been delayed by the hours he needed to reassure himself his friend was still breathing._

"_Hey senpai," he replied, the old joke of alternating promotions bringing a weak grin to Takeshi's oxygen-masked face. "Any word on recovery?"_

"_Should be full," Takeshi said, "But I don't know if I'll stay in ANBU. This one was – was pretty bad."_

_Katashi shuddered agreement, but didn't say anything._

"_Been years," the other man murmured, turning his head slightly to look out the window, "Kind of tired of it. Just – tired. Jounin might be a nice change of pace for us."_

_Katashi closed his eyes against that assumption, a justified one, truly. There had not been a place Takeshi had gone that he had not followed, not until death had come for him and Katashi had been bound by duty-loyalty-habit to life until he found other anchors. But that was over now, for Katashi it had been over for years but for Takeshi this must seem a natural assumption to make._

_Not one anyone outside of them would understand – a captain follow his subordinate? That wasn't proper, wasn't right – but it was the way it had been since a quiet orphan had been claimed as taijutsu partner by a more outspoken fellow._

"_For you, yes," Katashi corrected, and Takeshi turned to him with wide eyes, Katashi opening his own so they could lock gazes. "You should go for sensei," he continued calmly, gently - please don't fuss just let it go we're still friends-brothers-everything just different paths please just accept it!_

"_I – I was thinking about it," Takeshi's brow furrowed, before his face grew curiously blank and he nodded, "Yes. Jounin will be a good change of pace I think. May your mission go smoothly."_

"_May your recovery be swift," Katashi said around the rock in his gut, darting out of the door and internally cursing. He had forgotten, memories softened by time, how dependent he had been on Takeshi – he had been captain, been taicho, but Takeshi had been so central to who he was and how he thought that the idea of their duo separating willingly into different spheres would have been – abhorrent. Impossible._

_But he would make it work. It would work and they would be team-family-partner-everything because they had to it just – he had to._

He should have left before Takeshi woke up, Katashi thought to himself ruefully. Now his friend's reaction to their parting of the ways was going to hang over his head this entire time when he could just be enjoying the fact that he and Gaara weren't alone in this, that his future-forever-partner-friend was in this with him.

"So, anyone on your end going to be told?" Kakashi finally asked, breaking their easy silence and bringing the relevant matters back into focus.

"No," Katashi shook his head, "None in Suna would be willing to believe it. The future knowledge we have wouldn't be something to use to purely benefit Suna, so I don't think it would be worth the risk to try and bring others in on it. Konoha?"

"We informed the Sandaime," Hatake replied, "He is helping us plan and plot – we needed someone to bounce ideas off of and authorize some rather odd-sounding missions if we wanted to get in contact with you. Speaking of, when are you expected back in Suna? Naruto would like to actually speak as a group, though Gaara is apparently unavailable."

"Two weeks from now. If we can simply get a date worked out, or a range of them, since your Sandaime is in on it, I should be able to get Gaara out of Suna and arrange for my own mission overlap. He wanders the desert for months at a time at this point – it's considered normal and accepted so it wouldn't be particularly unusual for him to just decide to wander off."

"That gives us some flexibility," Kakashi mused, before smoothly standing, Katashi following him to his feet and they both secured their masks. "I assume you're up for a visit now?"

"What I was hoping for," Katashi replied.

"Well then. Race you to the south gate!"


	4. Chapter 4

Sarutobi Hiruzen had seen a lot in his time as Hokage, to the point that he had honestly come to expect that nothing could truly surprise him. Startle him, yes. Maybe even blindside him. But not surprise him.

He should have expected that if anyone could, it would be Uzumaki Naruto.

Comfortably seated in a room he had not seen since Sakumo's suicide decades ago, he was content to watch the future unfold before him. If anyone had told him that he would one day see a six-year-old command the respect and obedience due a Kage from two at least S-rank shinobi, he would have immediately sent them to the medics or T&I.

But that was what he was seeing. It had been disconcerting enough, when Naruto had approached him and used a code phrase known only to him now, one to serve as an identifier between a Hokage and their chosen successor. Hearing the boy's unbelievable explanation had been worse, especially since there was truly no other explanation that was not at least as implausible.

When his prize ANBU, Inu, had returned from a solo mission in record time and respectfully requested the chance to personally check up on Naruto – a boy he had been perfectly content to observe from afar and read reports on until he became a genin – he had almost been resigned to the situation. Damn Minato for making him deal with this crap.

But, as he had always done, he smoked a pipe, sat back, and thought on the new development behind an inscrutable grandfatherly face.

Their reports on the future, on the enemy they had to face and the utterly _fantastic_ notion of a Shinobi Allied Force, almost made him lose his composure. Truly, Naruto would become the most "unpredictable shinobi of Konoha". Their report that half their team was missing, was possibly in _Suna_, was enough to make him actually pinch the bridge of his nose, especially at their joint insistence that they somehow get in contact with the two.

None other than the notoriously unstable jinchuuriki of the One-Tail and a no-name shinobi apparently in their ANBU forces at this point in time.

But he couldn't deny it. Not when after only a few months of their new council (meeting first only through Kakashi's mission reports, then in Naruto's remarkably secure apartment, and finally in the Hatake clan compound, a place whose good condition he was certain Naruto's command of Kage bunshin was largely responsible for) Inu arrived from a solo mission with a Suna ANBU guarding his back.

_Makiguchi Katashi,_ he mused, watching the trio catch up on news in the Hatake's main sitting room, _a surprising addition_.

He made it his business to know the up-and-coming shinobi of other nations. Most higher ranked shinobi did. It was interesting that this shinobi, this complete unknown, had come to be the Godaime Kazekage's right hand and personal guard, entirely capable of holding his own against Hatake Kakashi, a shinobi who he now doubted was anything less than Kage-level himself.

When Kakashi had confirmed his allies' identities, Sarutobi had actually had to look through his comprehensive (and highly, highly classified) bingo-book to find the nin in question. The man was listed as a barely promoted jonin of relatively mediocre abilities. Based on the entry he would have guessed that any of Konoha's jonin could have dealt with him in a one-on-one fight, some easier than others but he doubted any of them would lose.

Obviously, the book was wrong or something had dramatically changed in the ten years they had skipped. He would put his money on it being a combination of the two.

"Tashi-nii-san," Naruto finally wrapped up their meeting, filled with shorthand gestures and references that made little sense to Hiruzen so he simply waited for them to finish. He was learning plenty just by watching their interaction after all. "What have you changed?"

"Gaara-san has locked down on Shukaku, though I am uncertain how long he will be able to maintain that as the seal is apparently very poorly designed," Katashi began, draped over a corner of the sofa he and Kakashi were sharing, porcelain mask resting with Hatake's on the low table.

What Hiruzen found truly fascinating about the group, he decided as the report continued, was how easily they directed their respect to a six-year-old boy. He himself was noted and acknowledged, the Suna-nin bowing to him respectfully when they were introduced, but he was not considered the most powerful person in the room by any of them.

Oh Naruto gave him respect and affection, even acknowledged that in his current state he was Kage in knowledge alone, but the boy did not consider Hiruzen _more powerful_ than himself. The other two shinobi were doubtless aware of the same factor, but their body language and reporting style indicated quite clearly that it was _Naruto_ they respected and obeyed.

How Sarutobi wished the other child-Kage could have come. It was easy to see in brief pauses and glances to a conspicuously empty chair that they were feeling the absence of one of their own and he could only imagine the sort of dynamics he would have seen with another six-year-old powerhouse in the room! Fascinating, utterly fascinating.

"A sandstorm?" he interrupted after the report on the fight with Kakuzu was finished (marvelous, what advance knowledge and surprise could do) "How does the technique work?"

All three turned to him, but it took a flick of Naruto's fingers for Makiguchi-san to begin (utterly _fascinating_).

"It started as an application of wind-chakra," the shinobi began, launching into a detailed explanation of direct manipulation of wind-currents, knowledge of climate and a truly subconscious understanding of wind itself. Sarutobi was enthralled.

_This_ was the shinobi who had risen to right-hand and personal guard. _This_ was a nin he would pit against the best Konoha had to offer with even odds. He hadn't seen it before – he had known, had understood, that there was something in this shinobi that kept him in Naruto's 'Team Awesome', but he had not _believed_. Remarkable, truly remarkable. A marvelous ability, dropping into obscurity like that so much so that even someone who _knew_ of his status and relative strength would think it was affection or some bias that gave him the ratings.

Formerly bland features – symmetrical enough, but nothing remarkable – were animated and alive as he answered Sarutobi's questions and indulged in theoretical sidelines that he hadn't had anyone to enjoy with since Orochimaru had defected. Dark eyes gleamed with a true _passion _for jutsu creation and discovery, unassuming posture straightened and drawing the eye to a form apparently designed to lounge and blend and disengage.

Listening to descriptions of days, weeks, months, _years_ spent to perfect one aspect to gain utter control of a single shard – Sarutobi wanted to laugh. He wanted to rejoice, to mourn to bitterly curse the fate that had landed this man in _Suna_ when he had so desperately been hoping that someone with that same creative spark and passion (tempered by compassion, by loyalty to the whole, unlike his wayward student-son) would wind up in Konoha.

Naruto had come close, even as a true child, but he had not been motivated enough except by pranks. It was a promising start, he had hoped, but the child who didn't simply want big and flashy jutsu was a rare find indeed. But fracturing one's own perception through grains of _sand_ to expand a sensors range? Rising from chuunin to jounin within a year of being held prisoner for months and tortured for most of it? Going from raw jounin to ANBU Captain within a year?

Maybe those ten years had been important to his development of these advanced Kage-killing jutsus, had been important to building his repertoire, his confidence, but they hadn't been the start, the beginning, of this man's rise.

And as much as he wanted to curse at the luck which had given this man to Suna, he wanted to praise kami and thank them _all_ for giving him the chance to meet him. Because from what they said, he had died before he had the chance and wasn't _that_ a bitter pill to swallow.

He was watching the future unfold in front of him, and it was a fascinating place indeed.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"So, that went rather well," Naruto said, sprawling across his chair after they bade farewell to the Sandaime Hokage.

"It did," Katashi agreed, gaze distant and fingers twitching their way through aborted hand-signs as he ran through jutsu concepts. Kakashi was watching those aborted attempts intently, Naruto knowing his ridiculously smart sensei was probably able to recognize what Katashi was attempting to create and would be able to meaningfully discuss the potential jutsu with him after they finished their own planning session (to which he would also be a major contributor).

Sometimes, he really hated geniuses.

"Does your Sandaime have any restrictions on our actions pre-emptively?" Katashi finally asked, fingers still twitching but his gaze re-focusing on Naruto as he brought the majority of his attention to their coming discussion.

"He wants us to tell him what we are planning to do before hand so he can plan for the potential repercussions. We've made sure he knows that some things will be cold, so his reactions will be natural, but he definitely doesn't want that happening all the time. Considering I won't be much use as a freaking six-year-old, to get Kakashi out on appropriately loose missions we need his knowledge, so it wasn't much to agree too," Naruto outlined, knowing that the Suna-nin had probably already figured that out, but it was worth detailing in full without a potentially offended audience listening in.

"That jutsu is going to be marvelous when it's completed," Kakashi muttered, gaze still locked on Katashi's twitching fingers but he visibly straightened and turned to Naruto, saying, "We need to crush Akatsuki now."

"Explain," Naruto said shortly, straightening in his seat and taking on a tone that was recognizable even in a childish tenor as a _Kage_.

Both adult shinobi straightened in their own seats and faced him, Kakashi reporting, "Kakuzu is already dead and Gaara is no longer killing his own shinobi – the timeline is completely off course. If we wait longer and simply try and maintain, it is not going to work out in our favor. What is the point in waiting? The old path _didn't work_. That's the point. We have knowledge of what would happen if we did nothing, of the _people_ we need to influence. Let us use _that_ knowledge to stage events and arrange circumstances to influence them appropriately, not just let things continue outside of our own control."

"But we need the unification," Katashi pointed out, eyes narrow, "How can we arrange a unification without an overwhelming enemy to face?"

"It won't be a universal simultaneous one, like before," Naruto said, "It will have to be piece by piece. Suna and Konoha we can arrange – we _will _arrange, with our team as the forefront. But we can do it, like Kakashi said, we know the people to influence, the lynchpins. We can use that to change the world, if in a slower way."

"So we will kill Akatsuki then?"

"Yes. But Tobi is our priority," Naruto decided, "The sooner he is dead, the sooner the greatest threat is eliminated. Without him pulling strings it will be much simpler to deal with Pein, as I actually understand his motivations and beliefs."

"We will want to deal with him first then, as Kakuzu can be brushed off as coincidence, but killing the rest will be difficult to accept as anything besides explicit targeting of the organization," Katashi pointed out, "Do we know anything about his current location? And is there a chance the jutsu dragged him back with us?"

"…There is," Naruto admitted reluctantly, "Simply because I honestly have no idea how this entire thing happened beyond a space-time technique gone wrong, well… right. But not as intended. It cannot be disregarded. However, I do not believe that he will make extensive changes immediately, even if he has in fact come back to the past with us, because, as you said, sensei, it wasn't like things were going particularly badly for him in our timeline."

"So we must deal with him promptly and decisively, preferably without letting him figure out that we too traveled back in time, if he has in fact done the same," Kakashi concluded, leaning back in his seat, "It would be best to simply assume he has, in fact, traveled back in time for now. It will simply make us a little more cautious."

"I concur," Katashi said, "And from what I remember of Mei-san's discussions, the civil war in Kiri is really picking up right now, with the bloodline users finally deciding enough is enough with the massacres. Tobi was involved in that, correct?"

"Indeed," Naruto frowned, "He held the Sanbi under a genjutsu and was able to influence the Mizukage through that connection. However it would wear off if he was gone for long periods, from what I understand, so he is probably actually in Kiri."

"So we need to go to Kiri, crush Tobi and build alliances with Mei-san all without revealing that we are in fact his enemies from the future returned to our younger forms, or raising any suspicions on the home front as to our changed behavior," Kakashi summarized.

The three of them sat in silence a while before Naruto sighed heavily, expressing their thoughts quite succinctly with his single, "Damn."

***===***pagebreak***===***

"Look, if he's saner then we can go on missions sooner, and that means we can get promoted sooner and get away from him," Temari said bluntly to Kankurou over their breakfast, "I don't see why you're complaining."

"I'm not _complaining_," the puppet-user retorted, "I'm _concerned_ and _confused_. It's been months and not even one death – I remember slow periods before and they always ended in a lot more bloodshed all at once. I, for one, do not want to be around when he finally snaps again."

"…He might have been satisfied with those kidnappers?" Temari pointed out, half hopeful but clearly not really believing it.

Kankurou just raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head, Temari sighing and looking down at her tea. The two siblings sat in silence in the morning light.

Their third sibling was crouched in the kitchen cupboards, listening intently to every word and torn between congratulating himself on managing to hide before they came in for their one regularly shared meal and lashing out in furious jilted enraged _grief_. His siblings were _gone_ they were as good as _dead_ and he had known that, had wept about it when he and Katashi first reunited, but it just never _stopped_.

He'd walk into the kitchen to get some milk and Temari would flinch away, clenching a knife to throw. Kankurou would start shaking when Gaara inquired blandly after what he was going to add to his puppets next. They'd tremble when he showed up to team practices, something he seldom did Before and did only occasionally now – not after how poorly they did when he openly watched the first time. He could watch from a distance and under suppression, then at least he'd see how they really could do.

They had been doing better too, at least a bit, but then that kidnapping attempt had happened and he'd faked a Shukaku release again. He'd thought – hoped – that being knocked unconscious without the demon taking over (and wasn't _that_ an exhausting thing to maintain with daily meditation and that blasted muttering back) would provide some sort of catalyst, but apparently that had only (somehow?) made it worse.

He was deviating from the pattern, he supposed was the problem. Deviations from pattern, even one as disgusting and terrifying as his old one had been, were never a good sign in the old regime, only ever ending in more blood. So clinically, he could understand their concern, even approve of their wariness.

But he wanted his siblings back.

Gaara burrowed his head in his arms and decided to count chakra signatures within sensing range. He didn't want to listen to any more. And tomorrow –

Tomorrow he'd go out to commune with the desert. At least the desert had never feared him.


	5. Chapter 5

The desert sun beat down on him, even in spring the heat was nearing brutal, parching the earth and sending the wildlife scurrying for shade and shelter when the sun was high. The winds stilled, growing gentle and placid as the temperature gradient lessened and everything grew more uniform, and Katashi danced.

A small tessen in each hand, he bounded across scrub and over sandy loams, launching up into the blue-gold sky with a blast of wind, feet barely touching the ground as he reveled in his new-old-_his_ weapons and the warm heated harsh chakra of his homeland curling around him without any of the taint of demon the stench of blood the wrench of death and grief and destruction.

Well out of sight of any patrols, Katashi kept half his attention on any approaching chakra networks – there was a small den of desert foxes a few leaps that way, a quail covey behind that sagebrush, a snake darting across the sun-drenched dunes a bit further south. If someone were to come across him, he could justify his actions as practicing fine control of wind, working up to more precise control of the windstorm jutsu he'd been sent out here to master, but it would be a stretch.

Tessen and moves free of power, of force, focused on efficiency and smoothness – that would be difficult to justify as building up to a power move. He could do it, of course. He could argue anything when it came to jutsu development, or at least throw enough high-flying theories at his questioners that they would retreat in confusion unless he were truly unlucky, but he would prefer not to. That sort of knowledge would not be something the average ANBU Captain would pursue, and while he was working his way into the exceptional category, he would much rather choose the time of his advancement with care rather than by chance.

Besides being an indulgence, these exercises helped him smooth out his chakra flow – ninjutsu often used abrupt surges. Certainly, they were taught to regulate and 'smooth' their chakra before using jutsus, but it could be so much more if the right exercises were done. But they weren't necessary, so it wasn't taught. He hadn't even realized it until Hatake had thrown a fit about his chakra control when he used a medical jutsu on him years ago.

A wolf's silver silhouette flashed in the sun as his tessen twirled through the air, enhanced steel and thread woven into silk panels gleaming with a slightly unnatural tone as his chakra was channeled through them. These were legacy pieces, Hatake's grandmother's to be precise, and in their not-yet-never time had been a gift-bribe to work on chakra control with the Konoha-nin. It wasn't an area many considered Sharingan no Kakashi an expert at, but that was only because the Hatake specialty had almost been forgotten except by ardent historians.

In the Second War and before, these tessen would have been priced above the last of the clan's significant bounty. Hatake weapons and armor were second to none and it was a true shame that the last Hatake's career had taken him so far into field-work that he was considered indispensable and had next to no time for projects like these. At least with the Sandaime at their backs he would have a chance to get their armor designed and worked on – going to Mizu without armor designed for that sort of damp would be a costly mistake.

_Three days_, he mused, slashing deep into a dune with a twirl of his right, diving through the falling sand and catching it around him in a short-lived sandspout, _to return early or wait till the last minute. Decisions, decisions_.

On one level – _Takeshi, Gaara, Kaoru-chan and Ikku – so many alive and happy and how could he bear to stay away from them one more moment he'd missed them so desperately alive he had to enjoy it now not tomorrow not later now now now –_ while on the other he had secrets and lies and false-truths and shadings it wasn't a comfortable easy home anymore not with a solid goal with allies outside Suna outside his Kage (Kages? Once and forever or current must he choose?). Three days either way was a price, he simply had to decide which shop to owe.

He truly had needed that break, that _chance_ to just _be_ – without masks. Without worries about how his actions would be interpreted and how his teammates would react to slightly _off_ decisions. And if he had needed it, he could only imagine how much Gaara would need it – they had no convenient ally like the Sandaime, no convenient connection like Hatake and Naruto had to make any chance interactions relatively easy to brush off. It made things much more difficult from a collaboration perspective, but also from a simple mental health perspective the isolation and utter _terror_ that Gaara was going to be surrounded by day in and day out must be exhausting.

Strange, still, to feel sympathy, _empathy_, for the demon brat, for _that kid_ as Takeshi had always – _did always, he's alive still thank kami alive who cares if he quits ANBU he's breathing _– called him. It was not so difficult, so bizarre, in their future-past-never-to-come because he looked different. He had a growth spurt, changed his gourd design, his clothes – and smiled. Not often, not much, but he did. Just the fact that a smile was a possibility changed so much of the presence he projected.

But seeing Gaara as a child, recognizing that the demon's chakra _was still there_, not just his Kage's incredible gift with sand (from his mother apparently, he'd never understood how that was supposed to have worked) it always took him a few moments to remember and react appropriately to how Gaara-future-now actually was. It was probably even harder on the child Kage for that reason, because no matter how good Katashi was at hiding things and being a chameleon, his fellow Team Awesome members had long learned how to call him on it. It was only fair, he did the same to them (though Hatake had taken some work, blasted mask).

Not to mention new hormone balances (or lack thereof) and the utter lack of any physical conditioning. Naruto-san (couldn't call him that anymore, he was just a kid now) had been whining about it (actually _whining_) and how he couldn't control his emotions worth _anything_ anymore and it was a damn good thing he was considered a loud-mouthed expressive kid anyway or he'd have given the entire game up with his almost constant hysteria at utterly innocuous things until he'd adapted.

Gaara-sa –_(kun-dammit!)_ had no such luxury, and Katashi had realized he'd done his Kage a disservice, not thinking of those potential implications and simply reveling in the fact that his team-family-everything was _alive_ now and he had _saved them_. He had always been one to react to situations, once a situation _happened_ with an immediate _need_ to respond, he could come up with plans and strategies, but without someone to prompt forward thinking with no desperate need, he was perfectly content to exist from day to day, mission to mission. It was an old trick from the war he had matured in, when thinking of the future was nothing but blood and nightmares, and not one he'd ever really grown out of.

He didn't think any of his generation had grown out of it. Oh Hatake could plan battles and missions and strategies with the best of them, but he'd never actually presented them with a _goal_ to work towards. Naruto-kun and Gaara-kun _(ha!)_ had done that, had been the visionaries to see how the future could be how it _would be_ if they just worked at it. Katashi and Kakashi (ugh, the nicknames were coming back blast it _never again_) were the ones they presented the ideas to, who helped them brainstorm and think up ways to get _to_ those goals, but they never actually _presented_ the goals themselves. For them, surviving was a goal worth working towards. Living – it had never really been the priority.

The word, the idea, started echoing in Katashi's mind, bouncing through his memories and flashing through faces ideas times where he felt like he really was, where he had been where _living_ and not _surviving_ had been the order of the day. His team-family of course, all memories with them, blood-soaked or laughter-ridden it didn't matter they were so so _precious_ but there were others, with a blood-haired teen struggling to gain recognition and acceptance, with a trio of siblings that somehow survived _everything_ the world had tossed them and actually come out of it _whole_and _loving_ and all of them had something in common, all but the latest few which he couldn't decide how to categorize. After all, Team Awesome (that name really was awful) had only assembled under threat of global annihilation, did any pleasant moments count for anything besides survival?

Suna. They were all in Sunagakure. His harsh, scorched, tough-as-nails, fierce-as-sun _no mercy no thoughts you are a tool_ – his beautiful, miraculous home because it still _stood_ because they survived they _thrived_ out here in this desert in this hellish place that _dared_ them to do better. That _dared_ them to rise above.

So. That was that then. His three days would go towards his home. Towards his _family_.

Towards _living_.

===***===pagebreak===***===

"Oh Raven-senpai!" Kaoru called, sticking her head through his office door, tone giving away her grin even if the porcelain quail mask hid it from his eyes. "Guess who's _ho-ome_!"

Looking up from where he was reviewing reports on the origins of the Kazekage's children's kidnappers, he blinked at her for a few minutes before the question finally registered and he shot to his feet, hissing as his leg spasmed at the sudden movement. "Taicho?" he asked hopefully, ignoring Kaoru's worried twitch as he stepped away from his supporting desk.

"Just entered," she confirmed, "Bakemono-san requested we assemble so once he heard taicho's report we could get our new orders."

"Ox on his way then?"

"Yep, just needed to put his gear away, we were doing some repair work," she nodded, falling into step beside him as they walked down the corridors. It was a slower pace than he was used to, but he needed that extra time. The medics had apparently missed some of the threads during surgery and they'd wound up giving him a blood clot in his leg – resolved and a more in depth examination ensured all of the blasted things were removed, but his leg was not particularly happy with him.

All in all, Ikku was already waiting at Eiji-san's door by the time they got there, and greeted them with a calm nod. The three of them stood in silence outside the door, waiting to be called in for what Takeshi had a sinking suspicion would be their last true team meeting.

When he'd woken up, and really _realized_ how close he'd been to dying on that last mission (saving some kids he could hardly care _less_ about) it had been – alarming. Jarring. He had panicked, he could see now, panicked and decided to cut his losses and get himself and Katashi the hell _out of there_ before one (both) died saving _that kid's_ life, or worse, keeping _that kid_ in Suna.

He should have thought it through a bit more, and definitely should _not_ have sprung it on Katashi like that and simply assumed he'd go along with it. Kami the look in his _eyes_ when Takeshi had nonchalantly dropped that "us" in there. He had been _terrified_, even if Takeshi, half-high on painkillers and still suppressing shakes from his latest dance with death, could only recognize it in hindsight.

Fuck he should have known better, as it was he had been forced to resign from active ANBU for medical reasons and instead requested a position in the intelligence branch. In fact, it looked like he'd end up in internal affairs, which, while a position most shinobi wouldn't ever want to touch, he found himself rather hoping for.

It meant he'd half-resign, become an ordinary jounin in all but reports to his superiors, and even get a genin team someday. Since Katashi had mentioned it, it was all he could really think about, and to his surprise he found he was looking _forward_ to it. He actually _wanted_ something of his future, had a specific _goal_ beyond 'survive'. That was something worth working towards.

More importantly though, it meant he'd still be in ANBU and have clearance for ANBU operations, so they would still be able to relax in their own apartment and not worry too much about classification getting between them. That aspect hadn't occurred to him until he'd mentioned his initial plan to Kaoru and she'd been quietly horrified (and not so quietly furious when she found out he'd told Katashi before the man left). Besides, with_that kid_ having expressed an actual interest in Katashi and Katashi's jutsus, he didn't want to be told some polite tale about Katashi's death because of classification issues, he wanted the _truth_ so he would know just _who_ to plot the painful, slow death of.

A double-flare of chakra from inside the office indicated they were to enter, and Takeshi led the way, sparing a brief nod for their shift leader before pulling Katashi into a one-armed embrace, muttering, "Welcome home, taicho."

Was it unprofessional? Yes. Did he particularly care? Not one damn bit. Besides, Bakemono-san had been the one to recruit them in the first place and had been well-aware of the fact that where one went, the other followed, even if that rigid partnership seemed to have changed recently without him knowing.

To his surprise, Katashi returned the brief hug before pulling back and letting Kaoru have a chance. Ikku and he simply exchanged nods, giving Takeshi a chance to reel in his shock without keeling over. Katashi wasn't an absolute _stickler_ for professionalism and formality, but he was definitely a major supporter, and never returned Takeshi or Kaoru's physical signs of affection (and even verbal cues, depending) when there were witnesses outside their team.

His death _pain as something crawled under his skin heading for his heart it hurt kami get them out! _or near death, rather, must have shaken him, Takeshi decided. Probably not helped by his sudden decision to flee from ANBU like Shukaku was on his heels without any consideration for the precious family-team he was going to leave behind, he admitted.

"So, my pet team is breaking up at last," Bakemono-san said finally as their greetings concluded, the four of them standing at attention (or an approximation, in Takeshi's case) in front of his desk.

Takeshi felt the slight tremor in Katashi, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, and wanted to glare at the shift-leader for implying that they were going to be permanently separated or something ridiculous (he firmly ignored the whisper that he had been the one to put that idea in his head). Eiji-san must have caught it anyway, or maybe noticed Katashi's well-hidden distress, and shook his head, "No, no. You are all still my ANBU. But you will join the regular rotations again, rather than being a rigid all-purpose team. Unfortunately, it was rather nice to have a near one-size fits all solution to our problems."

Katashi noticeably eased at that and Bakemono-san continued, "When I had you build this team, it was with the idea of seeing just how a rigid team structure would work out. In most cases, it was a failure once a mission just out of their expertise was assigned, but in yours and Delta's, it was a roaring success. Not enough of one for me to switch over the entire force – no, half our flexibility is in the mission-specific team selections, but enough for me to know that with the right people it can work. It has worked, very well, for years. And I plan to assign you to one another for most of your missions simply because you know how to work together so very well. But while you will still be listed as a team of four, it will be as a team capable of functioning independently."

"Will there be any difficulties with this?"

"No, sir!" the three addressed barked, Takeshi remaining silent and wondering at the shift he could detect in Katashi – he was confident, sure of himself. He always had been, when sparring, when the blood was pumping and wind was roaring and they were blazing fierce challenges to a world that had tried to crush them but not in an office, not off the field. Takeshi had always had to shore him up, to brace him for dealing with people outside of combat and serve as a first line of defense against those who took his reticence for weakness (fools).

"Raven, you have been accepted into Internal Affairs, you will be issued detailed orders soon enough, but your main priority now is to recover," Bakemono-san concluded, eyeing Takeshi thoughtfully, "Now you three are dismissed. I have a few more things to discuss with Crow."

Takeshi choked back an objection, wanting to drag Katashi away so he could explain, but instead he joined his teammates in their brief bows and departed, heading back to his office to finish out the last hours of his shift. What he would give to be able to hear what was going on in there!

===***===pagebreak===***===

"Sit down and de-mask Crow," Bakemono-san said, Katashi obeying reluctantly as those orders rarely preceded anything other than a very long discussion and he was tired.

Given, that was mostly his fault. He'd run full-speed to Taki to collect the bounty, then lurked for a few days until Hatake caught up with him, before lingering in Konoha until he was forced to leave. Even his three extra days in the desert had ended up going towards returning early and he hadn't returned with anything less than full-speed.

"You have changed, since you volunteered for that Shukaku mission," Bakemono-san said, leaning back in his seat and lacing his fingers over his armored chest, Katashi simply staring at him blandly. If anyone were to notice, it would have been Bakemono Eiji. The man was sharp, had recruited Katashi and Takeshi himself and kept them together despite concerns for their mission completion rates. More than that, he had been the one to choose Katashi for promotion to Captain of a squad after only a few missions.

The man chuckled at his lack of reaction, saying contentedly, "I always liked your chameleon trick. So. What has made you come out from the shade, hmm? Was a time I'd have to worry about breaking you if I broke up this team of yours, but you seem more than ready to let it go."

"Never," Katashi replied firmly, leaving it to Eiji to determine if he was referring to breaking or to being ready to let his team go. The older man simply shook his head, an amused smile on his face before he subsided into a more professional mood.

"Who would you recommend for promotion to field captain of your old squad?"

"Effective immediately? None of them," Katashi replied bluntly, easily switching gears, "Ox is too reticent, there would be far too great a chance for misunderstandings. Even now Quail and Raven can have trouble figuring out exactly what he means, though seldom on ops. Quail is a better candidate, but needs some more seasoning. She will make a very good captain one day."

"And Raven?"

"I assumed he was no longer in the running as he is switching to internal affairs and intelligence," Katashi dodged, the raised eyebrow indicating the dodge was noted and not appreciated. Suppressing a sigh, he said, "Raven would make a fine captain, but if you are not looking for permanent teams I do not know how well he will do with it. He works best with people he actually knows, especially in high risk situations."

Bakemono-san hummed thoughtfully, but didn't say anything, simply letting them sit in silence for a while. Katashi waited patiently for him to bring up the next point. While he was tired, he wasn't in any rush. Here at least, he knew where he stood. Much of the rest of Suna was far less certain.

"The sandstorm jutsu you were requested to develop. Is it done?"

"Yes."

"Can you present it to the Kazekage at any time?"

"I will need a chance to rest and top off my reserves, it is still a draining move," Katashi qualified, and his shift leader waved off the concern with an absent, "Of course."

More silence. Katashi still wished he'd hurry it up.

"Very well," the older man said, straightening in his seat and pulling some reports close to him to begin his work once more, "Dismissed. Your share of the bounty and mission pay will be issued tomorrow once the accountants are finished. Get some rest, it won't be long until you're asked to pull out that sandstorm jutsu of yours. By all accounts, the Kazekage's youngest is very interested."

Katashi nodded shortly and rose to his feet, placing his mask on again, Eiji's murmured, "Merciful winds watch over you," following him out the door.

He wondered if he should feel guilty about causing all these people worry with Gaara's interest, but he couldn't bring himself to care much. They would figure out he was in no danger on that front eventually.

Knowing that the others would still be on duty, he went instead to their lockers and lounge, changing into the clean clothes he stored there after a desert-brisk shower and shrugging into his jounin vest easily. His scrolls went on under his burnoose and he soon found himself running across the roofs, some ryo in his pocket to pick up some take-out on the way to the apartment. He had no motivation to actually prepare food right now.

He entered through the front door (not all shinobi broke out in hives at the thought) with his boxes stacked neatly in one hand, security measures peeling back to allow him entry. He'd have to improve them, now that he had actually worked with true sealing masters he could see the gaping holes they'd left in their network. Another thing to figure out how to excuse.

A step into the apartment and he could sense a shift in the usual background chakra – a shift coming from his own room. Well, at least those were personally secured, he wouldn't have to justify that sort of masking seal combination from his teammates. Toeing off his sandals, he rapped on the shut door and shoved it open, golden-poison chakra now recognizable, and he raised an eyebrow at the sprawled child on his futon.

"Gaara-san?" he asked cautiously, idly stirring sand indicating he was in fact awake, "Is everything all right?"

"They won't let me sleep. I left a sand-standard bunshin combo to wander the desert so I could sleep," Gaara replied, voice muffled as his face was still buried in a spare pillow. "Apologies for intruding on your seal schema."

"Maa, no need for concern," Katashi shrugged, slipping into his room and shutting the door behind him. He dropped down to sit by the bed, leaning against the futon and holding up his boxes of food and two sets of chopsticks (he always grabbed extra) "Hungry?"

"Ayame-san's sand dumplings?" Gaara perked up, shifting to sit next to him with a yawn, "I'd know that smell anywhere."

"Just for you," Katashi lied, the child kage snorting and accepting the chopsticks and a box. They sat in comfortable silence, eating out of each other's boxes for variety and habit, before Gaara finally asked, "So how did the mission go?"

"Very smoothly," Katashi smiled, "I met the Sandaime."

One thin eyebrow raised and Katashi just chuckled, continuing obligingly, "We were correct – both Kakashi-san and Naruto-san traveled back with us. For the sake of getting things done, they brought in the Sandaime Hokage, who is quite supportive of our mission. That will make arranging things on their end much easier. Currently we're planning on another meeting in four weeks – so if you can wander the desert and I can volunteer for a solo mission, we'll be set. Otherwise I might have to be set to monitoring you and that will be a bit more difficult for us to simply vanish on."

Gaara hummed thoughtfully around a mouthful of dumpling, but made no other comment and they finished their shared meal in silence. Empty take-out boxes stacked at his side, Katashi finally continued, "Most of our long term plans should wait till that meeting with all of us – we may have to change things and everything was very tentative when I left. But one thing I must do now is apologize for allowing myself to be so caught up in the current moment that at times I forgot what we have done."

His kage gave his odd near silent laugh, shaking his head and looking up at Katashi, dark circles under his eyes much worse than they were in the future, "Your family has been returned to you. I cannot find fault with your actions these past weeks. I would do the same."

"Because yours was taken from you at the same moment mine was returned," Katashi replied calmly, returning the look, "They are as gone to you as my family was, and I understand that blow. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be here, to see them-yet-not. Mine died much as they are now. Yours – no. Yours died far different and now it is like it never happened."

"They're scared of me," Gaara rasped, looking away and staring at a corner of the room, arms wrapping around himself, "I thought I could change it faster, could just – we'd just become family again. But they're still scared they're just – they're waiting for the other shoe to drop. They're so _scared_. I can't even watch them practice with Baki-sensei because they spend the whole time cringing I just – we were making some progress, I thought. When the kidnapping happened. But it's gone, if it was ever there. They just want to get promoted to jounin and off my team – our team."

Katashi hesitated briefly (he'd never really dealt with children before and non-sexual physical affection was somewhat foreign to all of them, even the hug-happy Naruto) before pulling Gaara onto his lap and wrapping his arms around the small (so small, so fragile) redhead, resting his chin in the boy's hair. Gaara stiffened in surprise, slowly relaxing into his hold while Katashi said quietly, "Naruto-san noted that his emotions were very difficult to control and only his reputation as a loud-mouth weirdo kept him from entirely giving away that something was wrong. Even Hatake-san admitted to feeling emotionally off-balance, though for him and me it is most likely because of the sudden resurrection of so many of our comrades more than strange hormone adjustments and de-aging."

"I had noticed something was wrong, but I was uncertain if that was simply me being sane and a child again, or a consequence of an altered mental state. It is not like I had anything approaching a normal childhood emotional experience to compare to," Gaara admitted, formal and advanced vocabulary sounding very bizarre in a six-year-old's voice.

"Well it seems it is normal – for our situation at least," Katashi appended wryly, Gaara chuckling at the oxymoron. A normal time-traveling experience, yes that made perfect sense.

"So – a meeting in four weeks?" Gaara asked, pulling away while Katashi nodded. "I will go wandering around then, meet you towards the northern spring. I'll make sure to lose my tails first."

"Figure I can volunteer for a mission at that point – now that my team is breaking up it'll be easier to swing solo missions with flexible time-frames," Katashi shrugged, a thought occurring to him on Gaara's problem with his siblings that he hesitated to recommend, but knew he should at least explain.

"As for Temari and Kankuro – it might be possible to at least re-establish an equilibrium if you use your former reference to Shukaku as 'mother' – a mother wouldn't hurt her children after all, and they _are_ your siblings," he said cautiously.

Gaara grimaced and nodded reluctantly, "I thought of that, and planned to go through with it initially, the problem is that if I establish now that I still think of Shukaku as my mother, it will be much less believable that I suddenly just switch mentalities and lose all vestiges of madness when the Konoha incident occurs."

"It should be possible to lead them to that conclusion easily enough, without explicitly stating it," Katashi pointed out, "And to be honest, the general populace had very little idea that Shukaku was considered to be your mother, even among the shinobi. All they knew was that you'd gone to Konoha and come back changed. And in the spirit of that honesty, half of the reason you were accepted so readily after that invasion failed was because we were so very desperate to build ourselves back up after that mistake."

Gaara's expression had tightened with displeasure, but he only nodded, murmuring, "I know. But I hope to change that without such circumstances."

"I will do all that I can, Kazekage-sama," Katashi replied, tiredness creeping up on him again, "Between the two of us – I'm confident it can be done."

"But how long, is the real question," Gaara pointed out sourly, before shaking it off and continuing, "My thanks for the food and comfort, Katashi-san. This may become a regular thing if they continue not letting me sleep."

"My door is always open to you," Katashi replied promptly, still somewhat taken aback by the complete _sincerity_ of his offer – the demon child, always and truly welcome within his most private domain. Unbelievable just twelve short weeks ago.

The small Kage simply smiled, a small, honest thing, in the face of that offer, before departing through the walls. Katashi was confident that Gaara would not be detected and there would be no indication beyond their own memory that he had ever been lurking within these four walls. Stealth would never be a strong point for the pint-sized Kage, but he was more than good enough to fool anyone monitoring them, especially in a place so sand-drenched as Sunagakure.

Katashi had just taken his take-out containers to throw away and was looking forward to some actual _sleep_ when the seals on the door flared and deactivated, Takeshi and Kaoru tumbling in with Ikku calmly following. Suppressing a sigh, he smiled at the three of them and laughed as his two teammates grabbed him into a hug again. Tired as he was, he'd have to be unconscious to ever pass this up.

===***===pagebreak===***===

It was a couple of hours later and Kaoru had dragged Ikku out, supposedly for a 'night on the town' but in reality because she was a marvelous, marvelous person and realized that Takeshi needed some time to talk to Katashi alone. Sitting across a shogi board from his oldest friend, Takeshi couldn't help but marvel again at the changes in him – they were small, slight, but so very obvious.

"You're happy," Takeshi said finally, making his move both on the board and in this conversation, "You're – you're honestly happy. Katashi, I honestly worried you never would be."

His friend looked up from the board, the usual muted blandness in his eyes before it suddenly melted away and he honestly _smiled_: Takeshi could count on one hand with fingers left over the number of times he'd seen that expression! "I am," the other man murmured, picking up a piece and moving it with a quiet _click_, "I suppose I've simply realized how… fortunate. I am."

"Fortunate?" Takeshi frowned, examining the board in an effort to stall for time as he tried to pick apart just what his friend was talking about. Katashi had never been one to be optimistic – he had always been a depressingly pragmatic individual, if not darting to the side of pessimism. When they'd first met, Takeshi had immediately gravitated towards the other orphan of the class, not expecting that he'd honestly become_friends_ with the stand-offish boy.

It had been a battle and a half to get Katashi to even admit that they were friends, not just teammates – looking back he realized that Katashi had known it for almost as long as he had, but he'd been very unwilling to say anything. Hells, that pattern continued to now, getting answers out of him on anything beside purely shinobi matters could be like pulling teeth.

"I have a team I love, missions enough to keep me interested and us all fed, and you're _alive_," Katashi breathed the last with a reverence that was honestly disturbing.

"It was – it was that bad? When I went down?" Takeshi asked, not needing the drawn expression and white knuckles to know that his question had triggered something dark in his friend – the sudden surge in chakra was enough to let him know that without visual cues.

"I can't – " Katashi shuddered, shaking his head and only repeating it, "I can't."

"Easy, taicho," Takeshi murmured, quickly shifting around so he was sitting next to him with an arm draped around the other man's shoulders, "Don't have to. I'm here – and in IA now, so hey, my life expectancy just went up."

Katashi collapsed against him and Takeshi frowned, this was not normal. Sure, Katashi wasn't so stiff when it was just the two of them, or even the two of them and Kaoru, but he was a very reserved individual by nature so for him to be this blatantly _needy_ was… alarming. Hell, the psych group had _warned_ him, Bakemono-san too, that Katashi and he were worryingly codependent, Katashi on him more so than the other way around, but he hadn't really believed it.

He still didn't, not to the extent they worried about. They didn't know Katashi like he did – Katashi genuinely _loved_ Suna, loved everything about the place. Takeshi knew that if he died, it would be bad. Now, he knew that it wouldn't just be bad, it was entirely possible that Katashi would break from it, but he wouldn't be shattered. He'd be able to piece himself together again and continue on. Maybe not happy, certainly not whole, but he'd continue on and maybe one day he'd find something else to latch onto, to live for, besides their sometimes hellhole of a home.

Shit, if he hadn't known how much Katashi had loved this place, he'd have ditched with him ages ago. He'd been tempted, after that mission gone wrong where they'd abandoned Katashi to die in enemy hands. It had been hell, working and working to get a bare chance to get him out and then to know that he would be _reprimanded_ for it when he got there? It was only Katashi's muttered questions about how long to Suna, how far to the desert, that had convinced him he needed to return instead of running the other way and offering their services to anyone that could get them the hell _out_ of the elemental nations.

Suna was not a kind place. Not for anyone, but especially not for geniuses.

He knew what his friend was, the kind of brain that was hidden away behind awkward self-confidence issues and usually rigid propriety. Give the man a jutsu concept and he'd have something whipped together in a couple of days – but doing that was _dangerous_, so very risky. After their first jutsu in the academy – a basic kawarimi, nothing impressive – Takeshi had known. He'd had trouble with it and Katashi had offered to help him with it, getting bored while he practiced and modifying the thing with tweaks of hand-seals and altered chakra regulation until he could change the color of the sand he arrived with.

It was a small thing, a stupid thing, but it had scared the crap out of him. He still remembered telling Katashi what that meant, what it might _imply _about him, that he could do such a thing and they had vowed to never let _anyone_ find out about it before they could protect themselves. They had known what happened to geniuses, everyone had heard about geniuses from clans, from the academy, getting thrown into the war and spat out worthless husks, burnt out and dead to everything by the time they were ten.

Thankfully, Katashi had always had a knack for blending in, for hiding his talent behind mediocrity, so it hadn't taken much work for it to seem like he was just as average as he pretended. Kami's sake, sometimes even Takeshi forgot the kind of talent his friend possessed.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asked, Katashi having pulled away to grab them both some tea. He quickly hobbled over to the table and sat down, repeating the question while Katashi gathered supplies, "Why are you giving the game up? Putting away the masks? Katashi it's – it's _dangerous_ what you're doing. _That kid_ was interested in your jutsu Katashi, he was actually _interested_ – why are you risking it?"

"…I'm tired," Katashi said, setting a cup of tea before him and sitting down across from him with his own cup. "Of faking, of pretending I can't _see _so many _better_ ways to do things. I just – You say I'm happy. And I am – I'm working, I'm _challenging_ myself – I know. I know it's worrying, that it's scary but Takeshi – I need you to trust me when I say that he is not a threat to me."

"He? You mean – you mean that kid? Gaara-san? How is he _not a threat_ Katashi, he's the bloody _demon –_"

"No," Takeshi froze at that tone, an utterly implacable _flatness_ that was so foreign to his friend, a hard look on Katashi's face and he continued, "He is a jinchuuriki. A poorly sealed one, initially convinced that the voice in his head was his mother, a mother who was the only one who loved him and craved the blood of innocents. But he is not a demon. He is a demon's host. It may be a fine distinction to you, but it is one that must be made."

Takeshi stared blankly, struggling to come to terms with what was happening here. This was a dramatic shift in the dynamic – strange enough when Takeshi had mentioned resigning from ANBU and Katashi hadn't immediately jumped to follow him (_stupid, stupid, how could he have expected that?_) but this? Katashi actively _refuting_ him in a judgment call outside of a mission?

"You thought I was dead," Takeshi murmured finally, it was the only thing that made sense. "For those hours, you thought I was dead."

A pained expression crossed Katashi's face and he looked down at his cup, Takeshi finally feeling like something in the world made sense again. "Okay," Takeshi breathed, nodding, "Okay, Katashi. I trust you. I don't – I don't trust _him_, but – but if you need me to just leave it be, I will."

"I'm not asking you to trust him," Katashi said, reaching out to rest a hand on Takeshi's, grey eyes boring into his, "I – I can't either, not now. But I think I can get through to him, I _have_ and if this sandstorm jutsu keeps people safe then that's what I'll do."

"So it actually is a sandstorm? A full on solo-driven sandstorm?" Takeshi asked, letting his mind skitter off the implications of his friend being able to (even _wanting_ to) actually _get through to_ that monstrous child he would never, _never_ trust. At Katashi's hesitant nod, he let a delighted grin grow on his face, crowing, "That's awesome! Katashi! How could you not tell me you were working on that?!"

"I wanted to show you first," Katashi muttered, averting his eyes but with a small smile on his face, "But it was an emergency."

"Ah _man_ I have _got _to see this – how did you do it? Is it wind or earth or – what? Come on! Give me details you can't just leave me hanging like that!" Takeshi begged, weight easing off his shoulders when Katashi laughed and pulled out a ragged and much-worn scroll, spreading it across the table and showing him just how that brilliant brain worked.

Something had changed in his friend, something had _altered_ and as much as he tried, he couldn't believe that his own momentary death was the sole cause of it – but this was still Katashi. Still his best friend, his brother, and he wouldn't risk him for anything.


	6. Chapter 6

"Katashi-san, you made it," Gaara smiled at him, sand creating fantastical designs and traps around him.

Katashi huffed in amusement, bounding over and across the shifting forms to land next to his Kage, "Of course," he replied, "I, unlike Hatake, understand the importance of punctuality."

"The mission?" Gaara asked, small smile acknowledging the jibe.

"Successfully completed in what would be record time if I were actually reporting accurate time," Katashi sighed, prying his porcelain mask of his face so he could wipe the sweat off his brow – it kept getting in his eyes. "I left a Kage bunshin henged as the target – set to last for three days. I'm supposed to take my time getting back, so that will give us six before I'm expected to return."

"Will the bunshin last?"

"Yes – it's stabilized," Katashi smirked, "Got that figured out at last. It's a combination of sealing and pure ninjutsu alteration – got the idea from the Sandaime's conversation."

"Naruto will be very happy to hear about that, knowing him he's going stir-crazy stuck inside Konoha, and going to the Academy no less," Gaara laughed, "So. Where are we meeting them?"

"Safe house a few hours run away," Katashi replied, going down on one knee and replacing his mask. Gaara sighed and clambered onto his back, arms wrapped around his neck, "Now this brings back memories," the six year old muttered.

Katashi snorted and shot off to the north, sending his chakra out in discrete fluxes so he could track Hatake and Naruto when they got within range. It shouldn't take long.

And it didn't – after an hour two chakra signatures were pelting towards them, Hatake arriving with Naruto clinging to his back in a skid of dust. "Gaara!" Naruto cheered, the two much younger boys jumping down and Gaara quickly tackled in a hug. Katashi shook his head, Hatake laughing before they exchanged a quick embrace of their own, "Good to see you again. Sandstorm go smoothly?"

"Recorded and official," Katashi replied, "A-rank, verging on S. They'll give it S once our fan corps fails to replicate it. They were a little miffed with their corps-wide defensive power being replicated by one man."

"Maa, they'll get over it. What about that razor-breath jutsu you were working on, got it straightened out?"

"Was waylaid by something more relevant," Katashi smirked, tilting his head and looking over at Naruto, who was still babbling something at a smiling Gaara, "Multiple blow shadow clones."

That got his attention, the blonde snapping his head over to him and grinning, "You did it! Was that seal of ours even on the right track?"

"It was perfect – just added a flexibility layer and then altered the jutsu itself," Katashi replied, "Your Sandaime gave me the idea. I'll teach it to you, wrote it down actually, thought since it's your signature you should have it, and then pass it on to your Hokage – I can't create too many jutsu at once after all, this sandstorm is bringing me enough attention."

Turning his attention back to Hatake, he asked, "Did you figure out that momentum redirection problem?"

"Ha! Did I ever!" Kakashi tossed his head back in a laugh, "Just wait till we get to the safe-house, I brought some arm guards so we can test them out! Come on Naruto-kun, let's get going!"

"You just want to show off," Naruto sniffed, but quickly jumped back onto Hatake's back, Gaara doing the same with Katashi. "But this should be a cool demo, so I guess it's okay."

"Glad you approve Chibi-sama," Kakashi drawled, Naruto's indignant response cut off by a whoop of delight as they launched forward in a race.

Of course they were going to race, competition added spice to life.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"So how are you going to get to Mizu?" Hatake asked that evening, the four of them gathered around the table, map pinned across it by empty bowls. "The Sandaime is developing a list of targets for both elimination and information that are in that region, so I can feasibly be gone for a year, even a bit longer than, so long as my information is good. They're piece-meal missions, should be easy to complete in a day or two – helps that most of the information is with regards to the civil war that's going on in the first place."

"Good," Katashi frowned, before admitting, "I'm having trouble with it. All I can think of is Pakura-san and her mission."

"Pakura – she was a good kunoichi, resurrected and very bitter, right?" Naruto asked, Gaara nodding and replying, "She had reason to be. She was set up – the mission was supposed to be a diplomatic one, sent to Yagura's forces. She was killed immediately, never expected to survive. The Kazekage sent most of the more powerful and charismatic shinobi out that way – got rid of them before they were a risk to his power base."

"Asshole," Naruto frowned, "Stupid too, killing off his good shinobi like that. Where's the motivation to become stronger if you're going to be targeted by your own Kage? Anyway, what does that have to do with getting you to Mizu, does she have an escort?"

"No, it was a solo mission," Katashi replied, hesitating before he continued, "I think though, if we stage it right, I can be sent out in her place. As the orders were to open negotiations with Mizu and didn't clarify what side – I could go to the meeting point, avoid the ambush, and then independently decide that clearly, we wanted to ally with the other side that hadn't betrayed us."

"Would you be permitted to do that?" Naruto asked, "Or would you be called back to report?"

"Not if they thought he was dead," Kakashi inserted, leaning forward and tapping Mizu on the map thoughtfully, "We time it carefully, you and I can both be there and conceal ourselves – was any evidence sent back as to Pakura's death? A head or something? Or was it simply assumed as she never reported."

"Assumed – but we'll want a body, just so the enemy thinks that I'm dead and their mission is done. But Suna will certainly think I'm dead, I will, supposedly, think I'm fulfilling my mission, and when we're done, I come back with an alliance with Mei-san's group and am flabbergasted by the fact they thought I was dead and no one received my reports," Katashi answered before summarizing thoughtfully, "That should work."

"It will work, as long as we can get you assigned Pakura's mission," Gaara affirmed, frowning, "If… if I express continued non-malicious interest in you, it should raise your potential threat level to my father."

"I'll get to work on that razor-breath jutsu – that's a horrible name, Hatake, thank you for getting that in my head – and supply it to the corps soon after you start with that. Hopefully it will kick-start something. If not we'll have to get creative, but Pakura's still more valuable than I am and she has a recently promoted genin team and is looking to take another – I'm one shinobi down, she'd impact future generations' skills. He'll at least think of that and consider it when he weighs which one of us to eliminate."

"Creativity is more threatening than competence," Hatake shrugged, "He'll pick you, I'm sure. When was she sent out?"

"Eight months from now, I think."

"Something like that," Gaara agreed.

"That will give me time to get Mizu-appropriate armor set up with a disguise of sorts," Kakashi nodded shortly, "Good. We'll straighten out the best cover story when we meet in… eight and half months? That would be… beginning of spring, wouldn't it?"

"Just after the equinox, yes," Naruto agreed, frowning as he continued, "Communication between the four of us will become an issue at that point – right now we are paired off, but then you two will be paired and we will be isolated. Summons wouldn't work – at least not the contracts Kaka-sensei and I have. One of you two should get a contract."

"What summons? And how are we supposed to get one?" Katashi asked dryly, "Randomly using the summoning jutsu is more likely to get ourselves killed than bring forth a useful and friendly summon."

"I'll ask the toads, see if they have any advice," Naruto shrugged, "They're a little more attached to the standard summons realm than Kakashi's ninken. Now, in the meantime, who wants more ramen?"

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kaoru watched with narrowed eyes as her taicho kicked back on the couch, pen and paper in hand as he muttered to himself. He was very relaxed – it was unnerving.

"Taicho?" she asked, and he looked over his notebook at her and smiled slightly, "Yes Kaoru-chan?"

"Want some sake?" she held up the bottle and warming plate, taking his shrug as agreement and sitting down on the tatami mat across the table from him. "How do you think Takeshi's jounin mission is going?" she asked, pouring out some to warm.

"Well, I hope," the man frowned, worry crossing his face before it cleared, "He should be fine."

"Yeah, senpai's pretty good," she agreed, not wanting to alarm him or make him worry more – far from it! Sure, she had expected him to be wearing a hole in the floor as this was the first mission Takeshi had taken without taicho there to guard his back in… hell, it had probably been years! But if he wasn't, that just meant her job was easier. Takeshi had pulled her aside and been very explicit in his orders to keep an eye on their taicho while he was gone, orders she was more than happy to obey.

"Oy, taicho?" she asked, sliding a cup of warm sake over to him, "When'd you create that sandstorm?"

He sat up and slid down to sit on the ground across from her, notebook and pen on the table while he took a sip of the sake – good quality stuff. She'd saved up for it. He hummed happily and she sighed before taking her own sip. She knew it was too good to be true. Taicho was not a chatty person. He may have been unusually relaxed and cheerful lately (for him) but he had definitely not started talking any more or answered questions any more frequently.

"Years ago," he finally said, and she was willing to take that, before he continued in a placid tone, "Finished it then too."

Kaoru froze, cup halfway to her lips, before she set it down on the table and exhaled through her teeth. She knew what that meant – he'd been sitting on it. Sitting on a fucking badass power move for _years_ and only pulling it out when he thought senpai was dead.

Which meant he thought revealing that power move would put senpai at risk.

She'd heard the rumors, but hadn't wanted to believe them. Powerful shinobi were sent out on risky missions and died, it happened. Geniuses went out to the front lines of wars and burned out, tons of people burned out in wars, wars were nasty and she thanked kami every day she'd never had to be in one, and prayed that held true her whole life.

But if Katashi-taicho had developed something like that _years_ ago, and that sort of talent didn't come from nothing, he'd been sitting on it for a while. And been sitting on what were undoubtedly other badass moves too, for years. Because letting anyone know that he could come up with awesome stuff like that would put senpai at risk.

That meant someone was deliberately targeting the best and brightest. Maybe in wartime it was a coincidence, and maybe he'd done it then to avoid burn out and stay with his friend Takeshi-senpai, and then it was a habit. But they'd gotten into ANBU ridiculously fast – keeping on track with that, he could have shown off a bit, flourished more obviously. Not stayed an average ANBU; damn good, but not fantastically amazing.

She knew he was fantastically amazing, because he was _taicho_, but others thought he was just a blah everyday sort, dumbasses.

But apparently he wanted them to think that. Wanted them to think him average, everyday, because otherwise he'd be sent out to die and no one would be here to take care of senpai. Or, worse, they'd both be sent out, because they always went out together, and senpai would die while taicho managed to live.

So many more things made sense now!

"So that's why you weren't so upset when he quit full-time ops," she murmured, "And why you didn't follow him. You need to go on missions without him, in case someone tries to get rid of you."

"Best you not talk about that Kaoru-chan. I've secured the apartment best I can, but outside of here – talk like that is dangerous," Katashi-taicho said, expression solemn, as per usual.

"Are you – " she hesitated, "Are you going to pull out more moves?"

"I think I have to," taicho said quietly, looking at his notebook, "If I make it look like it takes me a while, like I struggle with it… like it takes years to even come up with the idea for something like the sandstorm, much less master it – it should give me some more time. But if I just stop – they'll know something's up. A jutsu like that doesn't just randomly happen, I very clearly put effort and thought into designing it. I'm working on derivatives of skills I had to use to get to it, that should at least keep them from feeling too threatened."

Kaoru wanted to curse, to stab something, to cry. Instead, she just shot back the rest of her sake and poured herself another glass.

Someone – she very intentionally did _not_ glare in the direction of the Kage's tower – was going to try and kill her taicho because he was a genius. Because he could create awesome jutsu, and loved the wind.

The worst part?

It made complete and perfect sense.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Gaara hid at the edge of the training ground his brother and sister had claimed for this morning. Baki-sensei was there too, having them spar with one another as a warm-up. He was a good sensei for them, and while he had never come to truly teach Gaara after the invasion of Konoha, meaning Gaara had few memories of him-as-sensei not stained with Shukaku's raging madness, he remembered enough to guess that.

Watching him patiently deal with Temari and Kankuro's rages and worries while still teaching them what they needed, rather than what they wanted, of the shinobi arts only solidified that into true knowledge and belief. The few times that Gaara came to team training – as in, actually showed up rather than lurking in the background to watch with a painful sense of hope – he even got his sand abilities involved in the spars and scenarios. None of them were remotely challenging with a lifetime of experience more than Baki-sensei was aware of, but they were innovative and fresh from the perspective of his known abilities.

But what he _really_ wanted and needed was practice in the more physical aspect of the shinobi arts. In the month they had waited to meet with Naruto and Hatake-san he had gone for runs in the desert – actual runs, rather than using his sand – and worked his tiny body as hard as he could. He had never, and would never, be a taijutsu powerhouse, but he could at least hold his own against a jounin level opponent in that time never-yet-to-come and he'd like to get to that point _before_ he was seventeen.

A flicker of chakra a few yards away.

Looking over, he was surprised to see Baki-sensei – but a more careful examination of the one observing Temari and Kankuro revealed it was a layered standard and sand bunshin, much like the ones he used to such great effect in side-tracking his ANBU trackers.

His was, of course, better since he had such an intimate control over the sand, but it was still a combination he now wondered if Baki-sensei had taught him in that first life. He had used it before the Konoha invasion, he knew, but couldn't recall where he had picked up the idea.

If it was to be laid at this man's feet, he owed him a debt.

"Baki-sensei," he said, keeping his face as blank as possible as he returned his gaze to the man.

The jounin took it as permission to approach and came over, crouching next to him in his sand-shielded hiding place. "A nice vantage point," the veiled man said, "May I ask why you observe rather than attend team sessions, Gaara-san?"

"They fight differently when I am there. They receive more training and advance further when I am not," Gaara replied bluntly. "I want my siblings strong."

I want my siblings _back_ he did not say, did not dare think anymore, because it hurt too much.

"If you do not practice with them now, they will be unable to use the skills they learn in the field when we are sent out, if your presence affects them so," Baki pointed out, entirely logically and Gaara _knew this_ but that didn't mean he wanted to set out to _correct _it right away – he wanted to delay seeing them flinch, could anyone blame him?

If they went out on a mission and a flinch meant their deaths – _yes_. He would _never_ forgive himself.

He had earned their trust once, after years upon years of terrorizing them.

He could do it again. He _would_ do it again.

"Very well," Gaara said, sand-wall collapsing and faint genjutsu he'd held over the construction fading away. "I would appreciate help in taijutsu, Baki-sensei. I have improved at holding my sand back from automatic defense for the sake of practice."

"A good starting point," Baki said, rising to his feet. If he was surprised by Gaara's request, he didn't show it. The veil probably helped with that.

Gaara took a steadying breath before following the jounin down to the training yard, hardening his heart to the flinches and stuttered movements of his siblings. He _would_ wear down their suspicion and their fear, he _would_ regain their trust and love and affection again.

He _had _to.


	7. Chapter 7

Katashi grimaced, flexing his hand experimentally as he strolled through the streets of Suna in his jounin uniform, hood down on his burnoose. The yet-another-solo mission had been… interesting.

It was barely a month after they had met with Hatake and Naruto, barely a month since Gaara had carefully started expressing 'non-hostile interest' in him and he had been purposefully caught murmuring about jutsus not yet created in headquarters.

And here he was, freshly arrived from an A-rank mission of the nastier sort, the bread and butter of ANBU, which had been… creatively mis-ranked, to say the least. The volume of surprises and intelligence shortages and simple _wrongfulness_ was staggering even if he _hadn't_ already known of the Fourth Kazekage's tendency to arrange for potential rivals to die. With that knowledge, it was almost nauseatingly heavy handed. _This_ was the man they trusted to lead their village, to navigate inter-village and daimyo-placating politics, the man that they had followed into _war_ because their village was _starving_ when it was almost certainly entirely his fault?

Katashi did not consider himself good at politics. None of the four of them really were, though Naruto had a knack for getting people to like him at least. But any _one_ of them could do better than this! Where was the elegance, the subtlety, the bare _twist_ of coincidence-too-far so your enemy only knows as they're bleeding to death that it was _you_ who'd orchestrated their demise, making them feel insignificant fools as they passed on?

At least healers and medics could be trusted to do their jobs fully and without sabotaging him. While orders from the Kazekage were always to be followed, healers and medics were never issued assassination orders, not on a patient of theirs. So long as he received some form of medical treatment from them, they would not take assassination orders against him. It was a long-standing custom, even older than Tsunade's initiative to give medics immunity on the battlefield, and one he could reasonably trust.

Given, that was only true if one had taken oaths as a medic and healer, which some avoided (such as Yakushi Kabuto, the triple-crossing worm) so there was no way to know for _certain_ but if he didn't draw the line somewhere he'd have been crippled by that wound on his hand and he had far too much to do to allow that to happen.

And, given the full range of mobility he already had, with only a few twinges of pain that would fade in the next days, it had paid off this time. But with seven months to go before the mission they hoped for, it might not the entire time; he might have to start healing himself.

He hadn't really trained as a medic until Takeshi had been killed in front of him before – and even then it had been purely academic until after the Konoha invasion when they were so shorthanded that even a theory only medic was put to work. Depending on how long it took to get to that point, it might be worth it to carefully reveal he was studying medical jutsu.

Or he would keep it in reserve and simply return from ridiculous missions unscathed, editing the mission reports as much as he dared.

That would be more threatening, without giving away a potential trump card. Very well, a preliminary decision was made.

He swiped his way through the upgraded security seals on their apartment – layered ones, he was proud of himself; the same pattern as their old seals allowed entrance, but it was only the _extra_ bits he had put in that kept an alarm seal on an armband from heating up and thereby alerting him. The alarms caused by his teammates while he was out were worth the fact he could now sleep on the couch in peace – it was a comfortable couch.

Naruto may be able to whip up seals on the fly, and be utterly ridiculous at creative linking of basic components to create something truly epic, but give him some time and a lot of paper and he wasn't so bad himself. Hatake was better than him at using them in combat though – the Sharingan gave him an edge when it came to predicting motions that may interfere with a seal's development.

The door shut and seals reset with a quiet murmur of chakra. Katashi finally let the tension in his shoulders recede and he made his way into the kitchen, intent on tea and food – copious amounts of both. Part of the intelligence mishap had been poorly sealed supplies, leaving him with his emergency stash of ration bars for two weeks.

It was not-yet-nostalgic for the days when they fled Madara with an army and the kages with ridiculous healing factors pushed off needed food to their people, guards following their example so they could occasionally blackmail them into eating actual food.

The things they did for their kages.

Needless to say, before he'd even come here, he'd restocked his emergency stash. He had a feeling this was going to end up being a pattern.

A teacup floated up under his nose on a stream of sand, Katashi blinking in surprise before catching it with a quiet, "Thank you," following the sand with his gaze to a cracked open cupboard.

Opening the door, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of his six-year-old kage contorted among the bowls and numerous sake-sets (Kaoru collected them). "I can explain," Gaara said, mouth twitching as Katashi groaned, recalling the many situations where Naruto had prefaced his explanation with that phrase. Needless to say, the explanations had rarely made sense.

At least the question of how he had gotten in there was answered, Katashi thought wryly, watching as Gaara's sand carefully moved all the dishes out of the way and held them in the air while he slid out of the cupboard before setting them back just where they'd been. "I'm impressed," Katashi said, "I didn't sense you there."

"Which is concerning," Gaara frowned, "You are exhausted."

"And hungry," Katashi agreed, "Though I think this is more my subconscious recognizing your signature as no threat, which is still something that can be taken advantage of, but with Shukaku's chakra still tracing yours, less worrisome than it could be."

"Valid," Gaara nodded shortly, "Sit down, I'll make you something."

Katashi briefly considered protesting, but his ribs did hurt and he really was tired. So instead he sat down on one of the stools along the counter and watched as Gaara used his sand to pull ingredients out and make tea even as he washed his hands and started to throw together a basic meal. A sand-held teapot poured a fresh, citrusy blend into his cup and he inhaled the aroma gratefully – there was only so much stale water one could take after all. And the sanitization pellets he had carried with him for emergencies (necessary again, what a surprise) left a strange aftertaste.

"So is there an explanation for the cupboard?" Katashi finally asked, after he'd drank two cups of tea and finally felt the last of his wary alertness fade. Gaara was here, and while that was a little odd, it was far more comforting – he hadn't considered how exhausting it would be to have an increasingly hostile Kazekage's regard while at the same time pretending ignorance. He really should have.

"We were released from training today, Baki-sensei was called in for a mission, and as I had been practicing katas and strength-building late last night, I was tired," Gaara shrugged, "While I don't need much sleep, it is nice, and I haven't had much for the past week – they're still worried about Shukaku escaping my hold. So I left a decoy to wander the desert a bit and came here to sleep – when I woke up I was hungry so I came in here to see if there was something that wouldn't be missed when I realized your roommate was here and I hid in the cupboard I'd been looking through – then I fell asleep again until you arrived."

"Not quite as ridiculous as some, but still a good story," Katashi decided, "Which roommate?"

"Takeshi-san."

"Ah. My thanks, he would have taken any hint of your presence… badly."

"Yes, that was what I had figured. You think your other… Kaoru, correct? You think she would take a random appearance better?"

"Calmer, at least," Katashi shrugged, "Which could count as better. And she'd ask me about it privately, Takeshi might mention things outside our security seals if he's perturbed enough."

"Less flappable?"

"More trusting that I always have a plan of some sort," Katashi smiled sadly, thinking of his purple-haired teammate and her thoughtless devotion to their team and how that had been what broke them apart in the end. He sorely hoped that wouldn't happen now, that their team parting by reassignment rather than by death would keep them together and somewhat whole.

"Ah," Gaara said softly, the pair of them falling into a comfortable silence only broken when he slid a bowl of rice with fried lizard and eggplant over to him, a smaller one set in front of his own stool. A quick expression of thanks and they both descended on their food with single-minded determination – though there were occasional pauses of bliss, they knew what it was to go without any sort of flavor for so long after all.

A half-hour later they were in the middle of a shogi game, fresh pot of tea warming nearby. Katashi made his move, Gaara stalling for time as he asked, "How did the mission go?"

"Hm? Oh – disgusting. Very heavy-handed, the sheer volume of things that went wrong – utterly improbable," Katashi shook his head, "Your father is an idiot."

"Well, not a plotter, at least," Gaara sighed, continuing quietly, "He tries, I think."

"My apologies, Gaara-san," Katashi murmured, correcting himself at the boy's glare, "Gaara-kun, then."

"No need to apologize," the boy shrugged, a fluid and oddly aged movement, especially on a six-year-old. "I have read his papers, after all. It's a miracle Suna managed as well as it did, honestly, the opportunities wasted – well. No need to weep over them now, most have already been made or will be no matter what we do."

"At least we might spare Pakura-san, she was apparently a very good teacher. We need those," Katashi said, eyeing the unexpected move Gaara made suspiciously.

"That we do," Gaara agreed, smirking.

They made it through a few more moves when Katashi sensed a pair of familiar chakra signatures approaching the door. "They're home!" he called, shogi board immediately disintegrating and reforming into Gaara's gourd as the boy rushed towards Katashi's chakra-shielded room and presumably out the window, calling a hurried farewell over his shoulder.

Katashi turned to greet his teammates with a smile, wondering if they'd ever be able to forego this odd separation of past and present comrades.

If he kept them alive long enough, maybe.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"So," Takeshi said that night as they nursed cups of sake, "Kaoru-chan tells me you've gotten in something deep."

Katashi raised an eyebrow at the girl, who shrugged shamelessly and said, "You're sticking your neck out taicho, it's only right senpai knows about it."

"Senpai already knows about it," Takeshi said mockingly, lips tight with displeasure, "What I don't understand is why you're _continuing _it when we fucking lived our _lives_ to avoid this problem! And don't give me that shit about being tired of lying!" he hissed, slamming his palm into the table, "It's not _true_ you _liked_ being overlooked – you always thought it was amusing!"

"Or he said he did," Kaoru pointed out gently, obviously a repeated argument then, most evidenced by the fact she faced Takeshi's miniscule flinch without her own echoing gesture. She'd seen it too many times then, she'd known it was coming.

But Katashi hadn't and he felt that flinch like a punch to the gut from an Akimichi – "I did," he said, reaching over and grabbing Takeshi's risk, "I _did_," he repeated, Takeshi meeting his gaze with an oddly lost look in blue-grey eyes. Fuck, he had really been worrying about this he _couldn't_ lose Takeshi to something this stupid kami no not after all this – "I did."

"Then why?" Takeshi demanded quietly, "We knew this was the cost, Katashi. We always knew. Why are you _doing_ this?"

"Because you were _dead_," Katashi finally snarled, "Because you were _gone_ and the mission was a _failure_ and I wouldn't let you die for something that wasn't completed!"

Because _hell_ if that wasn't true, Takeshi had died bringing the demon brat back and nothing there had changed until he came back Gaara from an invasion that had cost too much for too little, had cost him _Kaoru_ the last of their family the last of his _home_ and then he was given this _miracle_, this _chance_ and he had abandoned his friend to lie bleeding on the sand while he raced after a kage he loved and adored that _needed him_ but he was still _failing_ in every way that really mattered to his patched together heart and could anyone blame him for throwing caution to the wind just then, when all he could think of was the fact _his Kage_ was in danger and _his brother_ was dying for it?

Besides, if the Kazekage thought he was going to win this round, kill this particular potential rival (ha!) and just move on to the next, he had another thought coming.

These were _his comrades_, people he had led into a war, and fought and bled and prayed beside as their village struggled as their world shattered and he would not let some power hungry moron take them. Not while he still breathed.

"Damn it Katashi, I'm not worth that!" Takeshi cried, empty sake cup shattering against the wall as he stood and began to pace, "They're fucking _after you_ Katashi! The Kazekage is trying to _kill_ you and if you'd just fucking _sat _on it a while longer – "

"Until what?" Katashi demanded, rising to his own feet, "Until the next one came along, the next potential rival, and was sent to death? The next and the next and the next in the hopes that one day one would outlive him and take his place? Live my life choking down on moves that could _save people_ on jutsus that could _make a difference_ when the Kage sends his own shinobi out to die abandoned because he can't take a challenge?"

"Until he's dead and you're safe!" Takeshi snarled back, "Until showing off brilliance isn't as good as a _death sentence_! Damn it Katashi, you're just going to _take_ this?"

"No," Katashi growled, frustration-grief-longing-anger a burning _rage_ that his friend was being upset by a bastard of a worthless man who dared to kill those who would die for him in not-even-elegant plots, "I'm going to _break him_."

Suddenly, things unfolded before him. Like a fine jutsu, a thought he'd worried to death and left to stew, strings and ideas and plots just unfurled before him, a banner of connections and words and ideas strung together by the thinnest of threads, the barest of coincidences but by kami if he pulled it off – he'd win it all.

Against this opponent, anyway.

"I'm going to break him," Katashi repeated quietly, firmly, "Because what he is doing is _wrong_, Takeshi. Suna is a bad place for genius, you told me once. And you were right. You _are_ right. But it shouldn't be that way."

It _wasn't_ that way, in the time-yet-to-come. The number of brilliant young shinobi and kunoichi Suna could produce when they weren't being culled was staggering – the number of older ninja who stepped forward and said they had a slightly better way to do this, they'd thought of a neat trick a while back but didn't dare share – it had taken a few years without the Fourth Kazekage at the helm, but Suna had truly blossomed then, had shown her treasures for the world to marvel at.

Only for Akatsuki to burn them away.

"I should never have brought you back here," Takeshi choked, a broken kind of pride on his face, eyes shining with unshed tears, "_Fuck_ I should have just run to Konoha, to Iron – _anywhere_ kami help us. Katashi – this place is going to kill you."

He hadn't known that, Katashi realized, staring at his friend in shock. He _hadn't known that_, hadn't known that his friend-brother-everything had rescued him from that mission-gone-to-hell and considered never returning, had thought about, seriously thought about, leaving Suna behind. Taking the pair of them anywhere at all so long as they didn't return here.

"There is no place else I would rather die," he said honestly, "No one else I would rather die _for_. Takeshi – you and Suna are everything I have. If you died – if you actually _died_ I – it wouldn't be pretty. Kaoru-chan you're – you would help. You are family, are team, but – Takeshi."

"Senpai is your sun," she shrugged, looking remarkably calm for someone who'd heard what amounted to high treason, amongst other things, bantered back and forth in this argument, "Suna your moon. I know, taicho."

Takeshi laughed, a broken, weary sound that Katashi hated even as he loved that Takeshi was still alive to make it, "They warned me," he said quietly. "They warned me that we were too codependent."

"Please," Katashi snorted, stepping forward and pulling his center-brother-all into a hug, Kaoru going bug-eyed at the fact he'd initiated the gesture, "That sounds like shrink-speak for jealousy."

Takeshi choked on a laugh, burying his face into Katashi's shoulder, inhaling deeply before he said quietly, "You have a plan."

"I do," Katashi confirmed softly.

"Are you alive at the end?"

"Yes."

"Are you _happy_ at the end?"

"Hopefully."

"If it's not yes to both, ditch the plan," Takeshi said, "That's all I ask."

"A tall order," Katashi said quietly, knowing it was impossible to promise his friend this. Too much was at stake, in the long run. While he didn't have a _plan_ for that, none of them did, but to promise he would ditch whatever plan they did come up with for the sake of his life and happiness? No. Not worth it, not worth it in the least.

But if it would help his Takeshi sleep through the night, rest easier while he was on a mission knowing he had these words to fall back on, then he would say it.

His nindo, after all, was Takeshi, first and always.

"I give you my word," Katashi finally said, "My word, that I will do so."

Kaoru finally couldn't take it anymore and lunged at them with a sniffle, both of them pulling her into their hug and just standing there for a while longer. Sentimental and weak it may be to those strict followers of the shinobi code, but Katashi was certain that if anyone asked these two, they'd agree with him.

Right now, he'd never felt stronger.

***===***pagebreak***===***

"So, here's the thing," Kaoru said the following morning, looking over at him from where she stood by the stove, "You're a lying liar who lies."

"I am a shinobi, yes," Katashi agreed dryly, paging through a fascinating treatise the Sandaime had sent him via Naruto last month – he'd never even _thought_ about some of these coefficients!

"Haha," she replied flatly, before shrugging, "No stones being thrown, boss. But no way would you let your death or happiness interfere in a plan, not if that plan keeps senpai safe. So I want you to turn that genius brain of yours to something _besides_ badass jutsus you already know how to do."

Katashi raised an eyebrow, looking up at her finally and saying, "No promises."

She snorted, "Please. I want you to figure out a way for me to know if you're dead, no matter how far or how deep undercover you are – if you're dead, I want to know. And I want to know right away. Conversely, I want that same method to let me know if you're alive – because if you get sent out and reported dead, I need to know if I'm planning a rescue mission or a vengeance blitz. They require a different touch."

Something in her gaze softened and she continued quietly, "And if you can manage it, giving something like that to Takeshi-senpai would take a great weight off his shoulders, I think."

"Unless I manage to do something stupid enough that I die," Katashi pointed out dryly, "No, Kaoru. I think I will leave anything along those lines to you. I'll get to work on it."

Once he finished this treatise – something hidden in its analysis of Sky-Village jutsus might somehow be useful after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So this is all caught up now - chapters thanks to no internet zones and flight delays :) Hope you enjoy and they work for you despite purely caffeine fueled creativity :)


	8. Chapter 8

_…reports greatly underestimated both size and the skill-level of nuke-nin led bandits._ Katashi's knuckles went white around his pen as he stared at the deceptively calm sentence, the hiss of a ventilator echoing in his ears with the level beeping of the heart-rate monitor setting his own heart's pace.

Taking a sip of by now no-longer even lukewarm tea, he set it aside and continued to write, careful to keep his kanji even and precise. The least tremor would give away emotional distress and he refused to give that _bastard_ he'd once sworn loyalty to (loyalty was a two way street you _fucking jackass_ just _wait_ I will _end you_) the satisfaction of knowing he'd been disturbed.

This last mission had crossed a line. Threaten him, place him in danger with poor-intelligence missions, with impossibly contradictory orders, with betrayal direct to those he was hired to eliminate – he would find a way, he would survive, and while he might curse and moan and grumble he would take it as his due, as what he had earned by being incautious.

But touch his team? His people?

He had given everything to keep them safe, once upon a time, and it hadn't been enough. He would not fail now, and any who stood in his way would die. Kazekage or not.

_Initial reports (see appendix A2 for supplied intelligence) indicated presence of two jounin-level shinobi, up to five chunnin level shinobi and at least fifteen bandits trained in basic chakra manipulation. Sensory-nin were assumed to be present and middling-competence._

_Investigation into recent raids conducted at the sites indicated inaccurate assessment of jutsu traces and weapons-scarring…_

Gathering your own intelligence on missions was only common sense, but he doubted most took it to the extent he had found he had to. They had examined two recent raids, one reported one found by careful questioning of locals while under henge, and come to the conclusion that there were in fact _four _jounin level nin at the _least_ with at least that many chunnin and more likely more, while the bandits numbered thirty and were trained in all the basic chakra exercises and up to D-rank jutsus.

Eyewitnesses, of which there were very, very few surviving, reported kawarimi, standard bunshin and probable henge use, as well as what could be interpreted as basic genjutsus.

There was no way this band had gone unnoticed for this long without interference at higher levels, not with the frequency of their attacks. Someone had decided to leave them be, to only interfere when they attacked caravans that paid for individual protection, and that someone, he wouldn't doubt, had just been waiting to use them as a disposal method for inconveniences.

_After analysis, it was determined mission parameters could still be met. Tracking resulted in multiple hide-outs, all of which were under concealment jutsus and extensively trapped. Chakra-sensing was utilized to determine which of these hide-outs were occupied and to hunt down the jounin-level opponents. In order to accomplish mission outcomes 3A and 3B, we retreated after determining location of the majority of the bandits' forces (see appendix B1 for map) and circled around to approach from the northwest, disguising ourselves as shinobi from Iwa, jounin-level (see appendix A1 for original orders)._

Setting that paper aside for the moment, he pulled out a clean sheet and his worn copy of the mission orders and initial intelligence. Technically speaking, these were supposed to be attached to the mission report, but every member of the team was issued their own copy, so he simply reported his lost and took a teammates. He wanted to keep track of just what sort of trickery had been applied towards him after all, and it wasn't illegal, just frowned upon.

Pulling a pencil out from behind his ear, he started drafting a neater copy of the scrawled map he'd placed on the mission intelligence briefing – utterly useless in everything except the reports of the most recent attacks, and even those had been out of date. Hopefully there were actual updated and accurate assessments somewhere and he was simply being issued altered and bullshitted copies, because otherwise his comrades were falling very short of the intelligence standard he was accustomed to.

Finishing the sketch, he took his pen and traced over the lines in ink so they would be better preserved before neatly labeling the corner with the appropriate index. As _taicho_, he was responsible for the most thorough report, containing original mission orders, all supporting documentation necessary, assessments of shinobi under his command even if all he ended up saying was 'competent' along with recommendations.

That section was actually the most entertaining to fill out when it came to these reports on sabotaged missions. It was a good thing he knew that these missions were only so badly messed up for him, or he would have lost all respect for their intelligence gathering teams.

There was a potential angle to explore – especially with Takeshi growing a network in the IA department, reviled and feared though they were. How many were aware, truly knowledgeable, of this active sabotage of shinobi with talent? They would be the most likely source for whistle-blowers exposing talented shinobi and kunoichi for what they were.

_However, judging by the focus on Earth element ninjutsus rather than the wind and water combinations considered most effective against standard trained Iwa-nin and the lead jounin's shouts regarding 'Suna scum' it is likely that this deception was unsuccessful. Due to the fact such remarks were heard moments after the attack was initiated, it is likely that the mission was compromised prior to our assault. Judging by the extensive trap-fields and high levels of preparedness, it is likely they were aware of a planned extermination mission from Suna. Recommendations: step up investigation for moles and infiltrators, increase of compromised missions is concerning trend._

A nurse came in, nodding to him politely before proceeding with her duties to the patient. Bandages and dressings were changed, notes made on the charts, and a murmured, "More tea, shinobi-san?"

"No thank you," he replied politely, raising an eyebrow at the woman and she nodded again, looking at her chart briefly before saying, "At this point it is up to her to wake up. There are no physical sources for her unconsciousness, I will be recommending the doctor declare her comatose. Standard shinobi-care practices indicate she will be kept on life-support for two weeks unless you, as her next of kin, make other arrangements. I will make a note for the doctor to speak with you as to the options available and their relative expense at earliest convenience."

Katashi nodded again, and the woman left. Opening the folder he'd stuffed his papers in, he reread his last paragraph before continuing to write:

_Deploying 2 shadow clones to distract chunnin level opponents (3), Quail and I engaged lead jounin (2) in combat. Wide-area jutsu took out majority of bandits present at encampment 2 (see appendix B1), estimated to be near genin-level (~12). One chunnin opponent (Nukenin – River, see appendix C1.1) was hit by friendly fire and eliminated, cause of death, arterial blood-loss. Minor injuries taken by myself and Quail._

_Reinforcements alerted by previously unnoticed seal-matrix communication (turned into fuuinjutsu analysis squad, ref. #43-A7-22) arrived; unprofessional, distracted secondary leader (Nukenin – Bear, see appendix C1.2) executed by Quail, cause of death, snapped spine. Arrival of 2 new jounin level opponents resulted in splitting of focus. Initial opponent (Nukenin – Iwa, appendix C1.4) retreated to let reinforcements distract us. Wide-area katon supplemented by kaze took care of dross (~5 bandits, 1 chunnin, appendix C1.3). Quail eliminated 2 initial chunnin opponents, shadow-clones dispelled at this point. Quail ingested one soldier pill._

_3 jounin level opponents including leader, 4 chunnin level opponents and 13 genin-level bandits remained in field of engagement._

_Quail utilized kenjutsu and mirror-based genjutsu to disorient and kill ~8 bandits and engaged 2 chunnin in active combat. I engaged lead jounin (C1.4). Applied charge to kunai, transfer of charge through blades stopped his heart. His body was used as a shield against remaining two jounin, water and earth specialists._

_Remaining 2 chuunin opponents jumped into our fight at this point. Quail was targeted by water specialist while chunnin and the earth specialist exhibited creative team strategies (deviation of standard Iwa patterns Shiroi-4, followed by Fang hunter pattern 6). During course of latter's dust-storm conclusion, a surge of chakra from another uncovered sealing array (recovered partially, turned over to fuuinjutsu team, ref. #43-C7-22) disoriented me, as sensory techniques were utilized to engage three opponents successfully. Brief disorientation resulted in dislocated shoulder due to poor dodge of taijutsu blow, struck the attacker (chunnin, appendix C1.5) in the armpit, bled out quickly._

_Other chunnin emotionally compromised, unable to fight effectively and maneuvered into jounin's earth jutsu, killed by crushing, see appendix C1.6. Jounin broke off engagement and ran, took opportunity to examine field of engagement. Found Quail down with leg mangled and extremely low on chakra, force fed her a soldier pill and provided a tourniquet. Generated one shadow clone to take her to Suna at best speed. Proceeded in pursuit. For report from shadow clone's perspective, see appendix D1._

Katashi had to put his pen aside at that point and run his hands through his hair, exhaling slowly through his nose. Reports didn't need full jutsu names, not unless details were requested – with these sorts of missions they never were. It didn't matter, so long as the mission was done. It meant his raiton-charge-transfer kill wouldn't be questioned, not in detail; it was a method considered theoretically feasible. What he hadn't mentioned was the fact he'd been furious enough (Kaoru was bleeding, was faltering behind him and _this was bullshit_) that he had curled the chidori around his fist and blade and slammed it through the man's chest. Hence the slight misdirection regarding using the body of his dead enemy as a shield – he'd only brought the head back, but it was best to be thorough.

He'd sensed the flare of chakra from the seal, because _of course_ one of those fuckers was a fuuinjutsu combat specialist, and that would _never_ have made it into the sabotaged reports because fuuinjutsu was dangerous no matter _what_ level shinobi the user was. You didn't need to be a chakra powerhouse, a taijutsu monster, to kill entire armies with a few carefully chosen seals and some timing. There was a _reason_ half the shinobi world had united to destroy Uzushiogakure.

He'd also sensed Kaoru's chakra waver and scream and falter and start to fade and he had thrown caution to the wind, screaming winds around him and cutting the chunnin to ribbons. The jounin had been able to dodge and had run for it at that point, and Katashi had let him go, coldly confident he'd find the man again – he'd sent a zephyr in pursuit, and he'd worked with Hatake, one of the best trackers in the business. He'd find a terrified out of his mind jounin verging on chakra exhaustion in no time at all.

Kaoru's opponents had scattered, the few that had lagged behind (bandits with bare training, had to be as slow as they were) dead with slashes of his tessen and snarls through his mask before he dropped to his knees by Kaoru and felt his heart _break_ when she stared up at him with those kami-awful brown-black eyes full of wondering awe and blood bubbled from her lips as she whispered through a grin, "So badass!"

The seal had been a mess, a flare of blinding chakra and surge of electricity for all in the area – Kaoru had known enough to get away from the ground but she'd still been hit badly, disoriented enough for her leg to get caught in the aftermath of a bastardized healing jutsu turning her bones into balls of spikes. It was a jutsu he recognized from the twisted genius of Kabuto and that didn't make _sense_ how could it be out already how was this possible what was going wrong this hadn't shown up for years decades kami no not Kaoru not his kohai –

At that point he could remember things clearly, flatly, as if he were a step removed and unaffected. It was a state he'd learned to induce, had used for the majority of his life after Takeshi's death if he were honest, had used to hold himself together and function as he tried to claw his way back to some form of humanity. It was probably a bad thing that slipping into that state again felt a bit like coming home.

But that state had gotten his mind together, gotten his shadow clone home with Kaoru limp in his arms and breathing oh so damnably slow and low and slight and he'd thought she'd _died_ when Bakemono had told him he'd failed the mission for nothing for what kami he'd thought she'd _died_ she was _gone_ the medics hadn't been able to save her he was a _failure_ –

He would never forgive Bakemono for what he'd said.

Kaoru was not nothing. She was not "some stupid nothing stunt you just threw away any chance of safety for, what the hell were you _thinking_" she was his _kohai_ and that bastard had no right to decide that her life was more important than the bullshit idea that he might be able to earn his way back into the Kazekage's good graces and get off the inconveniences to be eliminated list.

It would never happen. Because the man was right, Katashi _was_ a threat. Hadn't been before, even with being back in time, with knowing how much he'd screwed up, he wasn't a threat. Hadn't been a threat.

Until Takeshi had looked at him, scared, horrified, worried and near tears, because of the threats that man had made. Until Kaoru had grown cold in his-yet-not's arms as he raced across the dunes the dirt the cliffs frantically feeding her chakra but not draining himself-yet-not to the point of dispelling, to the point of condemning her to ignominious death in the middle of tractless Suna where no one would ever find her again.

_Now_ he was a threat.

_Now_, he wasn't going to rest until he saw the man dead himself. And preferably, dead knowing he was a failure, that he was trapped, doomed, had sealed his own fate. Because there was no satisfaction in killing a man that had no idea what he'd done to wrong you. Who had no suspicion that there was a motive besides money or politics in their blood and cash soaked world.

He wanted the Kazekage to see his death coming, to see his end, as a politician, as a powerful man, as a _breathing being_, and be unable to escape it. Just as so many other brilliant bright Suna shinobi and kunoichi had been unable to escape their own fates, unable to fight against the weight of a Kage thrown against them, unable to even see the threat from the man they'd sworn to follow until it was too late.

For all of them, for Takeshi, for Kaoru, he would kill him.

And he would ruin him first.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Red-hot metal was hammered into shape, white chakra flickering across its expanse as two broken halves were re-forged. Goggles firmly in place – his lightning affinity had a tendency to spark, after all – Hatake Kakashi kept only half a mind on his work.

The hard part of rebuilding his father's tanto had been done in time-not-yet, after all, where all the technicalities and details had been worked out along with various enhancements he'd considered. In the end, he had decided on a simple restoration – it was complex enough to keep him interested, useful as a warm-up exercise and meant he could think more heavily on the longer-term projects he had underway.

Such as their armor and disguises for the Mizu mission, and more likely, for their entire operation against Akatsuki. If, against all odds, they were able to kill the masked Uchiha (Tobi, who, exactly, did his demented former comrade think he was fooling?) then Madara would be left locked away in Susanoo, so long as Itachi never freed him. Given Sarutobi-sama's confirmation that the massacre had, indeed, been ordered and that Itachi was, in fact, reporting on Akatsuki, that seemed unlikely.

Not impossible and something to remain wary of, but unlikely.

However, they would still have the remainder of Akatsuki to deal with, and while Naruto insisted on the fact he'd be able to talk Pein around, Kakashi would much rather plan for having to deal with the six paths of Pein along with Akatsuki and, for good measure, an army of Edo Tensei undead legends. It would make anything more manageable a pleasant surprise.

So, they would need to act in Mizu, and undoubtedly elsewhere, in a manner that did not indicate loyalty to any one village. Some sort of uniform would be necessary as well, and unfortunately simply swapping their hita-ate for the one with a shinobi kanji was not going to do it this time around.

Though he'd have to include that somewhere – to honor their not-yet-never-maybe comrades against those madmen.

Armor of course, entirely custom. He had a rough design for Katashi in mind; thankfully he'd gotten his measurements during their last meeting and tinkered with his grandmother's tessen to optimize chakra flow for him – that should give him enough data to work with to come up with a modifiable prototype. If they could get some down time after Kiri and he could talk Katashi into lurking in the Hatake compound for a few weeks he'd be able to make a true masterpiece, but he doubted that would happen before the chunin exams.

If those even happened as they not-yet-had, but seeing as their main focus right now was Akatsuki and not Orochimaru or even Suna-Konoha politics, he doubted their actions would do anything to really subvert that particular event. The grudges involved were too long standing.

Tanto plunged into water to cool, he eyed the steam thoughtfully - it reminded him of the jinchuuriki Han. Now his armor had been interesting – bizarrely delicate at times, but interesting.

"Yo Kakashi-sensei!" Naruto bellowed, sounds indicating he was crashing through the Hatake compound as per usual and Kakashi sighed, removing the blade to continue its shaping. Naruto had taken to the new shadow clone with enthusiasm, leaving a sturdy bunshin in the Academy while he worked in the Forest of Death to get his younger body up to reasonable snuff. The hope was that he'd be able to go on missions with Kakashi soon so by the time eight months rolled around he'd be all set to go out on his own.

Mizu was only one angle of attack after all, and if they were going to get a true anti-Akatsuki movement going, they'd need more appearances than just the two ANBU could manage.

ANBU – maybe a mask of some sort? Blank porcelain, with seals to block the byakugan and the kanji for shinobi on their foreheads. Yes, that would work nicely.

Supplement with cloth masks woven with chakra to circumvent the byakugan further (yet another reason for the traditional Hatake masks, as it happened) and they would be set against Ao and any Hyuugas they ran up against.

"Kakashi-sensei, Kakashi-sensei! I just had the most brilliant idea ever!" Naruto beamed, bursting through the doorway to the forge and hopping up to sit on the workbench in the back.

"Hmm, you say something?"

Naruto scoffed, "So cruel! I should make you sweat for it – nah, too cool to not share! I think I figured out a way to forcibly deactivate the Sharingan!"

It was a good thing he was basically done with the tanto, Kakashi acknowledged, because that last slip might have ruined it.

"Ha! Knew that'd catch your interest!" Naruto beamed, the ludicrously tiny powerhouse continuing, "It's a seal – and I _think_, if we could manage to test it I'll be sure, but I _think_ that it'll let you deactivate your Sharingan, giving you two working eyes without a beastly chakra drain. And talk about an epic disguise!"

"Not utilizable in combat then?" Kakashi asked.

Naruto grumbled, "No, it's too slow to activate," before perking up, "But I might be able to modify it! I'll want to see if this one even works though – which raises the question – where, _oh where_ are we going to find implanted Sharingan to experiment on?"

"You planned this entire thing to get an excuse to go after Danzo, didn't you."

"I cannot confirm, nor deny, any such allegations. You in?"

"Need you ask?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So a heck of a lot later than I anticipated, the next chapter! I have the next one basically written, just need to redo some stuff and do some touch-ups, so hopefully it won't be another two months for it.

Hope it was worth the wait. If it's a little confusing, no worries - clarification to come.


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